


Fields Of Jasmine

by BruisedBloodyBroken



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Abused Sam Winchester, Alpha Dean Winchester, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Cuddling & Snuggling, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Making Love, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Sam Winchester, Protective Dean Winchester, Slow Build, This is nothing like the usual A/B/O Dynamics you've read (probably), Unrelated Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, Wincest - Freeform, a/b/o dynamics, alternative universe, this is different
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-04
Updated: 2016-02-11
Packaged: 2018-03-16 08:10:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 37
Words: 195,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3480779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BruisedBloodyBroken/pseuds/BruisedBloodyBroken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is an ex-hunter, working as a mechanic on the salvage of his surrogate-father Robert Singer, from Monday to Friday, 9-5, sometimes overtime. He quit hunting after a severe injury to his right calf and hip. He built a small house behind Bobby's where he's living. One day, a young man runs in front of his car, who's chased by a vampire. Something that will irrevocably change his life forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Teaser

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This is the prompt by sammygothispantieson I'm building this story up around: protective!possessive!top!alpha!hunter!dean!31, hurt!crazy!bottom!hermaphordite!abused!omega!sam!27, salvage!fic, featuring bobby! john! jodymills!cas!, crossdressing, eventually!mpreg, heat!circles!, alpha!beta!omega!dynamics,  
> So to say: I am not sure if I will be able to include ALL of the requested things in the story ... but I will try. I've never before written, nor thought about writing, something like this. It's HUGE for me and I'm quite uncomfortable with the m!preg thing. Then again it could be possible, since Sam's going to be a hermaphrodite.  
> I can't promise anything about this one. Hell, I'm right smack at the beginning of this story.  
> For the ALPHA/BETA/OMEGA thing: I don't do that whole extreme dub/con thing. Of course there will be some slight dub/con, since this is what it is – if you will even be able to call it that way. Everyone who knows "Storm's Last Season", will know that it's gonna be different. There will be Alphas and Betas and Omegas. But the Omega's won't be treated any lesser than Alphas or Betas. If anything, they're something precious. Something special. And since Sam's going to be hermaphrodite, he's going to be specially special.
> 
> SUMARY: Dean is an ex-hunter, working as a mechanic on the salvage of his surrogate-father Robert Singer, from Monday to Friday, 9-5, sometimes overtime. He quit hunting after a severe injury to his right calf and hip. He built a small house behind Bobby's where he's living. One day, a young man runs in front of his car, who's chased by a vampire. Something that will irrevocably change his life forever.
> 
> WARININGS: unrelated!wincest, mentions of possible torture!abuse of a minor!and/or grownup, sexual graphic!content ahead, FLUFF, love!story, mentions of violence, bad!language, high likely graphic violence or descriptions, body!deformation
> 
> !YOU'VE BEEN WARNED!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you can find me here :)  
> www dot facebook dot com slash bruisedbloodybroken

The Alternative Universe

or ... how I put things to make this work and explain it to you BEFORE the story even starts, so you have a glimpse at what I think of how A/B/Os work in the universe I created:

The world is a mess.  
Not just in our reality. Even in this one.  
  
There are Alphas, Betas & Omegas. There are monsters. Demons. Angels. Hunters. There's Heaven, Hell & Purgatory.  
There's Dean Winchester, an Alpha and Samuel Tristan Harvelle, an Omega.  
  
In this world, Alphas get laid with Betas, Omegas or Alphas as well, because you can't do anything against love, can you? As well as Betas can fall in love with Omegas or Alphas or Betas and of course, Omegas can fall in love with Betas or Alphas or Omegas. No matter what gender.  
Betas have the greater amount of the world's population. They are actually pretty normal in contrast to Alphas and Omegas. Why? Because, they're like the people in OUR universe. They don't have a knot – just saying, before someone's asking. They are usually the ones who have social tendencies when it comes to jobs, or in families. They are diplomats and not as driven by their emotions/instincts as Alphas and Omegas.  
  
Alphas on the other hand can get very moody and have a higher potential to get agressive and violent and overly protective when it comes to their family, friends and specially mates/boyfriends or girlfriends/partners. Simply: People they are close to. Alphas mate for life and usually have a drastically lower divorce rate than pairs made of Betas & Betas.  
  
They aren't as sex-driven as you may think. They are like you & me just more emotional – when it comes to something that's important to them.  
On top of that, they've a pretty good olfactory system. They scent close to everything. But what's special about them? Well, they can scent their mates extremely well. Provided that it's their soulmate (if you believe in things like that. Not everyone does anywho. No matter if in our universe or in Fields Of Jasmine's one).  
Soulmates: Soulmates are one soul split in half. They belong together – no matter what. No matter what gender, what race, nor if they're reborn as animals or plant (Don't judge me, that's what the lore says. Well, I've made up the lore. So yeah, it's because I SAY SO. Don't you guys dare argue with me about that). Yep, I've never heard about a plant being a human's best friend, but hey? What can I say?  
  
Soulmates doesn't mean that they have to be in love either. They can be best buddies. Or an animal (preferably I'll mention DOGS). There's no rule about age-differences too. They can also be your brother or sister, mom or dad – or your kid. Always depending in which body you got born into.  
Though, there's the lore that pairs find each other because of the bond of their souls. That one has to be memorized.  
So we get back to the Alphas: Their dicks have knots.  
  
Omegas. They're rare. They're precious – or at least they are when it comes to law and death penalty. Though, there's rarely an Omega killing someone. They're usually very emotional too, but they do not tend to hurt others physically. They rather cry. It's just in their genes.  
  
They don't even end up in prison that often. Usually it’s Alphas and Betas who do shit to end up there. And even if an Omega screws things up and ends up behind bars, they get special treatment. They get a cozy bed. More privacy. A better cell than Betas or Alphas. Hell, they even get better food ...  
Some say it's because of a judge hundreds of years ago, who once was married to a female omega ... No one exactly knows what went down back then, but it surely wasn't something nice why she ended up in prison.  
  
Anyway. That's none of our business. We've a story to tell and I don't want to bother you with not so very intersting details.  
Omegas do scent others too. Just enough, so they know who are Alphas or Betas or Omegas – except it comes to their soulmate. THEN they do smell a whole lot more about the special person.  
They are treated with utter respect.  
  
Against most meanings, male Omegas can't get pregnant, because they're male, for fucks sake. BUT: They do lactate & they don't have a knot. AND one of the important things that were requested in the prompt were the heat-cycles. So yeah, I let those poor bastards go into heat ever two months for about three or five days. Though, it's not as massive as in other fics.  
  
May a small fever, not feeling well, feeling a bit of the urge to have sex with someone. But only slightly. I guess we'll see about that in the story anyway ;D.  
Of course there are exceptions from those rules like in any other universe. Just because someone's an Omega doesn't mean he can't kill someone ...

So, now that that's settled I guess we can move onto the story?

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Fields Of Jasmine  
  
Four years ago ...  
  
The young man's eyes were trained at the male looking figure in the clearing.  
The light of the burning pyre and altar illuminated his silluette, showing a gun in his left hand and something that looked like a machete in his right one. The man's shoulders were tense. His whole body seemed to vibrate with energy and adrenaline.  
  
Well hidden in the darkness of the trees and underwood, he watched the hunter carefully, not moving an inch and keeping his breathing even so not to be given away and drawing the hunter's attention towards him.  
  
He knew better than that. He knew how dangerous it could be to be discovered by one of those men or women. Always eager to kill what wasn't human. And by all means ... Samuel Tristan Harvelle was sure about a lot of thing, but certainly not about his humanity.  
The man shifted and his head turned towards where Samuel stood, emerald-green eyes piercing through the darkness.  
Sam saw the man's eyes narrow, saw his eybrows furrow, even though he stood about two hundred yards away from him.  
Time for him to go anyway. No need to be discovered.  
  
The man would know, or at least assume something Samuel may not liked. Besides, it wasn't his plan to let himself be seen by any of this kind. He was a freak. A monster. In every single way. After all he had made himself a name and reputation so far, even when he was more of an urban legend. Samuel would dearly prefer if it'd stay that way.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

It was one of these days ...

Dean Winchester sat at the bar after a long day at work at Singer's Salvage and drank his last beer for the night, watching some pretty girls dance on the dance-floor. An amused smile traveled over his lips when Cassey brushed against him while she walked by.  
  
Cassey. One hell of a girl. One hell of a sexy girl. A sexy girl he had a whole lot of sweet nights – and mornings – with. Sure, her attempt to gain his attention meant, that she was up for a couple of rounds of horizontal athletic exercises upstairs. Just Dean wasn't. Not today. Not since his damn calf and hip were giving him trouble again.  
  
His whole leg felt stiff from his hip downwards. Well, it wasn't that bad. Someone who didn't kow would probably think, that he had a sore knee or ankle. Someone wouldn't even notice the slight limp whenever it was hurting if this someone didn't look that close at the ex-hunter.  
But Dean knew. - He felt it. The ache. The pain. Deep down he knew where the injury had come from and what it had cost him.  
It wasn't like he had LOVED to kill those monsters. He surely didn't. But it had been his job. Ridding the world from those bastards who threatened innocent humans. Dean Winchester had been able to do something good for the world. Well, at least he was telling himself that.  
  
Sure he took over hunts every now and then, or helped another hunter out. Though, he prefered to use his talents in repairing cars for others more often now. Something regular and stable. Maybe he'd get to have a family too one day. May even kids and grandkids.  
It felt kind of nice, this normal life. Well, at least as normal as it could possibly be to live close to another hunter – Bobby Singer – his surrogate father.  
Dean blew out a deep sigh and waved the bartender to come over. He then pulled a bill from the inner pocket of his leather jacket, which once had been his father's, and laid it on the bar before he slid from the stool.  
  
It was about time to get his ass home. After all he'd have to get up earlier tomorrow to patch up old Missy's Ford. A car which definitely belonged in a museum instead of on the road – just like its owner. Man, that old lady had some serious driving problems lately and she sure as hell belonged anywhere but the road.  
What actually wasn't that much of a problem though. Everyone knew Missy Robins just fine. That old widow – or rather witch. Everyone knew about her driving habits and that it was better to get out of the way when you spotted her on the road.  
Dean made his way out of the smoky bar and towards the back, through a dark alley, where his baby was waiting for him. To his surprise, he found Cassey leaning against the driver's side, her short jeans and loose top only covering the most intimate parts of her body. She wore a soft smile, as she toyed with the handle.  
  
The mechanic couldn't do anything but grin at the fact that – though he was practically a half invalid – most women still seemed to fall for him. Something not everyone could manage. Dean figured it was his Alpha-gene and the fact that he was a Winchester. Winchester's always were lucky with the ladies.  
As he approached his baby and the woman, Cassey pushed away from the vehicle, running slender fingers through her blonde long hair.  
"Gonna take me home tonight?" she asked – hope and need dripping from each syllable.  
  
Dean chuckled low and shook his head, his forest-green eyes lighting up in a way not everyone had the privilege to see. "Sorry, Cassey. - Not tonight, Sweetheart," he said and licked over his lower lip.  
A disappointed sigh fell from her mouth and she cast her look down. "You around on friday? - I'd have a short shift ..."  
Yeah, friday sounded pretty good to him. "Sure thing." He blinked his lashes at her. "Friday eight p.m.?"  
She nodded. "I'll be waiting for you, Winchester," she said, as she walked past him and stole a pec from his cheek.  
He slapped her rear lightly, before he was out of armreach and earned a low giggle. "See you on Friday," he heard her say, before the back-door of the bar slid in its lock.  
  
Satisfied, and tired as hell, he slid behind the steering wheel of his baby and sighed, as he pushed the key into the ignition and called the engine of his beloved Impala to live.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

It wasn't that far from the Salvage into town. Actually five miles covered the distance with woods.  
Dean yawned and rubbed over his face, turning the volume of the radio up a bit. He never left the road before him out of his sight since it was high likely that some deer could cross the road in the darkness.  
  
He hated those dark days, when the sun started to go down early and was ruining the last warm escapades of the year. It made his calf and hip hurt even more nowadays – man, he was getting old, wasn't he?  
Sure, he was just thirty-one, but on some days he felt way older ... Something the job as a hunter brought along – at least when you lived that long. HELL, Dean had never thought he'd live that long, nor had he ever imagined to end up as a mechanic. He always had thought he'd die with a damn gun in his hands, fighting for his life.  
  
And now? Now he was some civilian repairing cars ...  
John's ash would do pirouettes if he'd know.  
Suddenly the brights caught movement on the right side of the road, just where the light of the headlights started to fade into the night. Dean – who wasn't the slowest driver – Slammed onto the breaks, as the very next moment a very human-like shape appeared. It froze instantly, stopping dead in its tracks, when the Impala stopped just mere yards away from it. From HIM.  
That was definitely not a deer – nor a bigfoot. That was a damn human, staring shocked and frightened into Dean's direction. Wide eyes, torn clothes and what looked like dirt and high likely blood were covering the guy.  
  
For a long moment it was as if their looks met. Dean was pretty sure, this guy wasn't looking him in the eyes, since the headlights had to be blinding him from where he stood. Nonetheless, even over the distance, he could tell that the man was running from someone – or something.  
That was about the moment when his confusion faded and his hunter-senses kicked in.  
A second later, the guy tore his gaze away from the vehicle and his attention snapped towards something from where he had just came from. Then he started off and was gone in the underwood of the other side of the road.  
  
Dean swallowed, his gaze glued to the roadside, while his hand searched for the gun, which was secured in a holster under his seat.  
There was movement again, and a single man stumbled onto the road, a gun in his hands, before he could fumble his own free.  
The man's gaze snapped towards the Impala, an utterly grim expression on his face and a snarl on his lips. He stopped.  
Dean pulled the weapon into his lap as he trained his gaze on the man. He knew him. This guy was Henry Savanger, owner of a bar in the center of Sioux Falls, known for its G-rated events every other weekend.  
  
The hunter had spared those so far, not quite into the whole S & M thing as others might in this town. Other than that those events were strictly private. He had heard about other things going on there too ... backrooms and the possibility to rent one of them with provided company.  
Something the hunter didn't need either. He could have whatever he wanted whenever he wanted.  
Anyway. Obviously there were more dubious things going on as he had thought. So far, Dean knew nearly everyone who lived in this town ... and he didn't know the young man who seemed to be on the run from Henry.  
And that was that.  
  
Henry Savanger turned towards the car, pointing the gun at the driver's side. "Out!" he called.  
Dean huffed out a breath. He didn't know Savanger better than anyone else. Not enough to know him personally anyway ... He hadn't even repaired the man's car so far.  
"Son of a bitch," Dean hissed, sliding the gun behind his back and into the belt, before he pushed the door of his car open - ever so slowly. After all, he hadn't stopped hunting to die by a bullet through his head or chest from some human scum ...  
Savanger's eyes reflected and lit up silvery as he tilted his head to the side slightly.  
  
Dean's lips drew a tight line, training his look at the man on the street warily. He showed one of his hands outside the car, while he acted as if he needed the other one to brace himself to be able to stand up. Again he didn't look away and kept on glaring the guy to death – if that'd only worked.  
No such luck though.  
  
The ex-hunter slid with his still hidden hand to the backside of his seat while he rose slowly into a standing postion and pulled a machete from the backside of his seat in the same motion, holding it close to the outer side of his thigh so that it stayed hidden from the other man's few. At least for now.  
Savanger cocked the gun and trained it at the Winchester, as the ex hunter's head appeared above the driver's door.  
"Wrong time, wrong place, boy," he called out with a mischievous grin.  
  
"Looks like it, Henry." Dean made a step away from the car, the lower half of his body still hidden behind the door.  
"Hands up, Winchester. - Both of them." He waved the gun at him. The man's eyes reflected the light once again as he shifted. "So that I can see them."  
Dean pursed his lips as he made another step away from the car. "You ain't no human, Savanger. What are you?"  
The man chuckled, blowing out a sigh. "Am I?"  
  
"Vamp or Shifter?" The ex-hunter made another step away from the car so that he was standing out in the open now, though, still holding the machete at the side of his leg, well hidden from the man's view.  
  
Savanger showed him his perfectly white teeth, licking over them as a row of fangs penetrated his gums.  
Dean huffed out an annoyed breath. How could he possibly not see? Had he gotten that rusty? Savanger had crossed paths with him so many times in town. How couldn't he have noticed?  
  
"Vamp," he growled, the stinging scent of terrified omega penetrating his nostrils and setting off a flood of adrenaline and endorphines in his bloodstream.  
Like every alpha, Dean wasn't immune from the sharp stench of an omega in need. Though, something about this one smelled ... off. Moss. Wood. And something sweet ... something ... like Jasmine.  
"You gonna shoot me? Think that's a good idea?"  
  
Savanger grinned slyly. "Oh, don't you worry, Winchester. Aint no piece of you’ll be left when I'm done with you. You'll just disappear."  
"You think so, huh?" Dean's lips curled up into a feral smirk. "Bobby wouldn't buy it though."  
The vamp huffed out a breath. "Old town drunks I can handle, kid. Don't you worry." He thrust his jaw forward.  
"Oh ... guess that's a thing then ..." The very moment the words came over his lips, he pulled the gun and swirrled around in a half-roll over the cool concrete as he pulled the trigger. Despite the fact that he hadn't had a gun in his hands in over a year – at least not with the intent to use it – he hit the guy dead in the chest.  
  
Savanger staggered back, gasping, the grip on his gun easing. It slid from his hand and as it hit the ground, a shot echoed through the night. Dean got back on his feet as fast as his hip and knee allowed him to, and limped a few steps towards the vampire, gun still trained at him.  
"Didn't know vamps are goin' after human omegas now, bitch," Dean said as he stood right in front of the creature. "Why would you do such a thing? - He's gotta be missed. Someone's lookin' for him."  
  
The Impala's bright lights revealed a slowly growing red spot on the man's shirt. The ex hunter tapped with his machete on the man's shoulder. A seemingly featherlight touch though enough to throw the man off balance and backwards to the ground.  
"Yeah. Silver. I know I know." Dean winked at him. "Ain't gonna put you down long enough, except it's stuck in your heart. Lucky me, huh?" He bowed over the gasping being with risen eyebrows and a satisfied expression on his face.  
Dean patted with the tip of the machete against the man's cheek. "So ... you gonna tell me where your nest is? How long you've been around Sioux Falls? When you got turned maybe?"  
  
The wounded creature snarled at him. "Fuck you!" it hissed.  
  
"Where's the nest?" he asked again through gritted teeth. "Millers Farm? Huh? - When I'm thinkin' about it closer ... haven't seen anyone of the Millers for weeks ... Figured their car finally gave up on them and they bought a new one ... but they didn't did they?" he pursed his lips.  
The vamp turned his head away from the ex hunter, staring at the seam of wood where the omega had disappeared.  
"What about the omega? Where'd you get him?" Dean pursed his lips, his eyes narrowing. "Did you kidnap him? Buy him?" At the second question, the vampire seemed to tense and his breathing quickened a bit "Black Market maybe?"  
  
The vampire's gaze flickered towards the hunter, meeting his for a split moment, before he pulled it away from him again. There had been something in the man's dark orbs ... something that told Dean that he wasn't quite wrong with that.  
"Good." Dean smacked his lips. "No need keepin' you when you're not talkin'." He straightened up again and rose the machete over his head, before he let it swish down, parting the man's torso from his head with a single smooth move.  
Panting and with blood-splatterns on his face, Dean fumbled for the phone in his front-pocket, calling the only person that'd know how to deal with this kind of problem.  
  
"Hey, Bobby." Dean gasped, gripping his right thigh with a groan. "Fangs." He didn't need to say anything more.  
"Where are you boy?" the gruff, but familiar voice asked.  
"Two miles ahead of the Salvage. - You can't fail me," he said and snapped his phone shut.  
The next thing he did, was to scroll through his contacts until Jody Mills was underlined in a light blue.  
He pressed the call-button.  
  
Two rings later, someone picked up. "Dean?" a female voice asked sleepily.  
"Jody. - Stumbled over a fang on the main road. Guy was huntin' an omega in the woods. - May be a nest."  
There was a beat of silence on the other end of the line, as if the Sheriff was holding her breath. "You've got a name?"  
"Savanger," he answered. "Henry. You might wanna check out the Miller's Farm ... You should take Jo and Joshua with you." He paused. "Me and Bobby gonna take care of the body."  
  
"Meetin' at the hospital then?" was all Jody asked with her sleeprough voice.  
"Depends. Give me a call when you're done." Dean could hear the rustling of clothes through the phone. Jody was already getting dressed and ready to head out. "Jody?"  
The sheriff cleared her throat. "Yeah?"  
"Take care. Don't forget the machetes," the ex hunter said.  
There wasn't an answer. The line went dead.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

He needed to run. - Get away. This was his only chance. His last chance. Hell, and he'd die trying if it had to be. No one'd touch him ever again. EVER AGAIN. He wouldn't allow anyone to lay their filthy hands on him. He'd rather freeze to death out here or starve or whatever else fate wanted to throw at him.  
The gashes and cuts on his soles and feet burned. Each intake of air tore through his lungs and felt as if they were on fire. Nonetheless he kept on running – as fast as his tired legs would allow him to. Adrenaline and the hope of escaping those merciless hunters, left him fighting against fatigue, exhaustion and pain.  
  
  
Shit.  
Henry was fast. He knew he'd get to him. He knew it was some kind of game for those monsters. If they wanted, they could've gotten him miles before. Henry could've gotten him miles ago. But that bastard obviously prefered to hunt him down the old fashioned way, like a deer or rabit.  
It wasn't like he hadn't tried to get free before. At least in the beginning he had. But after all those months ... damn it, he didn't even know where to go. Hell, he didn't know anything but fear and terror and pain. He couldn't remember anything else but ... but THEM!  
  
His foot caught in a root and before he knew it, he found himself face down on the forest-ground, shaking and panting and all of a sudden too tired to even try and get back on his feet, get back running.  
  
The wound in his side gave him a sharp stab, as he pried his hands into the damp ground beneath him and tried to get himself into a sitting position. His muscles protested, a whimper falling from his lips as he crumbled back to the ground, curling up into himself.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Bobby was there within fifteen minutes from the opposite lane of the road. He stopped his car mere yards away from the corpse and when he emerged, he carried a machete in one hand and a blanket in the other one.  
Dean and he greeted each other silently with nods.  
The ex hunter wiped his machete clean on his jeans and thrusted it into a sheath on his outer thigh, which he had gotten from the trunk of his car moments before.  
  
No matter how bad his alpha-side wanted to storm into the woods, tracking the unmated, frightened omega down, he didn't. One of his rules was, to not go alone into the woods when there'd possibly be more than one supernatural creature out there.  
Besides ... he was a gimp, so what the hell? He couldn't take care of all the poor bastards in this world ... At least not anymore. For Dean it didn't matter what he was. Alpha. Beta. Or Omega. He didn't care – he honestly didn't. Dean had said goodbye to the social order a long time ago, not quite cool with the idea of raising one humans well-being above each others just because they were born as omegas.  
  
Actually, he felt pretty pissed off by them. After all it had been an omega - which were known to be gentle and nice and vulnerable – who had set their house on fire years ago and had killed his mother when he had been only three years old. It had been the very omega, who had gotten a lesser punishment than anyone else would have, just because he was what he was.  
  
Because it was forbidden to kill an omega. It was forbidden to hurt an omega.  
Of course, that didn't mean that he would have a nice life in prison after all. Omegas were what they were after all – rare breeding machines. Well, except this had been a male omega, so in this case, breeding machine wouldn't fit. Though, Dean hoped – from the bottom of his heart – that this bastard would pay for what he had done.  
  
He could still remember – very vividly – how that bastard had grinned, when the judge had announced that he'd get a single cell with a canopy bed (he didn't say that, but it was high likely that way) and with quite some other extras another regular prisioner (alpha or beta) would've never gotten.  
So yeah. Dean Winchester hated omegas for a very special reason. Besides ... he hadn't met a lot of them that acted like normal people anyway – except for a hand full of them.  
  
Besides ... Dean prefered betas anyway. They didn't stink as bad as omegas and they weren't as bitchy as he had heard omegas had to be.  
All in all, Dean Winchester was pretty pleased with how things were in his private life – no duties and all the rights.  
Bobby Singer dumped the blanket – which came out to be two blankets – on the ground and spread the upper one over the headless corpse. He looked around and both his eyebrows rose, as he spotted the head, lying about a yard away from it. With a nudge of his foot, he rolled the head over and let it disappear under the blanket.  
  
"Help me get in on the loadbed," Bobby said gruffly and started to wrap the dead creature up in the scratchy fabric.  
Dean obliged without questioning and stalked over to him, where they managed to spin the body into a thight cocoon and threw it on the bed of Bobby's truck.  
Of course they could've looked for the omega first. - But despite the fact that the sheriff knew about the supernatural and what Bobby and Dean had been doing – and were doing occasionally – in their past, she could not do nothing if someone would see a beheaded guy and Dean standing right next to him.  
So they had to pack up the corpse before they'd do anything else.  
  
Dean shoved the legs of the cocoon further up the bed and dropped them with a grunt before he whiped his hands off on his jeans.  
"He can't be far. Looks like he's not in the best shape." Dean took a deep inhale, still being able to scent the omega's stench. Then he pointed towards the slope where the omega had disappeared. "Probably's somewhere hidin' in the woods ..." His voice trailed off as his gaze met Bobby's curious look.  
"That ain't a wounded deer we're lookin' for, boy," the older man rasped.  
"Omega. Bobby. Omega," Dean said. "They ain't better than that."  
  
Bobby huffed out a breath. He handed his younger friend a flashlight and switched his own on. "Let's go," he muttered and took the lead as they crawled down the slope.  
Dean cursed as yet another branch slapped him in the face. "Dude!" he called out. "What the hell, Bobby?"  
The grizzled hunter muttered something.  
"What was that?"  
"Take care where you're goin'. Can't have you and him to carry back to the car, Idiot." The bearded man sniffed and grumbled yet another add to what he had said.  
  
Dean shook his head. He knew that Bobby didn't share his opinion on omegas. Though, the older man didn't care either who got born as what. Actually, he hated the laws as much as Dean did, but he refused to let it out on others (specially omegas).  
Robert Singer didn't share the younger man's opinions though. He himself was way older and had met omegas by himself. He just didn't see them as the bitchy being as Dean seemed to think they were.  
  
Sure, there were those petite, pretty things – omegas – which used their rights to their advantage, but most of them weren't as bad and behaved like everyone else did. They weren't different from alphas or betas at all. Just like there were alphas out there, who loved to pry with the fact that they were what they were.  
He thought, that if it was a beta or alpha out there, needing help, Dean would act a whole lot different too. Just for the fact that they weren't omegas ...  
Bobby stopped in his tracks and rose his hand, signaling Dean to stop.  
  
The younger man did, his eyes narrowing, as he sucked in a deep breath through his nose. His nostrils flared as the strong smell of Jasmine, moss and wood shot straight into his brain, telling him that the omega couldn't be far anymore.  
"He's close," Dean muttered, brushing past his older friend, the fact that he wanted to get this over with stronger than the need to be careful and think about how to narrow without scaring the hunted being off further.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Sam swallwed a choked sob and squeezed his eyes shut at the touch. He didn't know what to do. If he should say something, if he was supposed to say something. Hell, those voices were foreign and at the moment their words didn't make any sense. Not in his state of mind.  
All he wanted was to be left alone.  
  
All he wanted was to die right there, unable to take any of this anymore.  
The stench of a the newly arrived alpha and a beta made him want to crawl away from the threat before him. Though he knew that no alpha would allow him to disobey. At least not the one who had him before. And before that ... well ... he didn't remember. COULDN'T remember.  
The hand squeezed his shoulder carefully and despite the gentleness it hurt.  
  
A pained whimper escaped his mouth and he tried to turn away from the touch instinctively, as pain started to radiate from his wounded side. Then the hand was gone for a moment and there was movement around him. The rustling of clothes and cracking branches.  
For a moment he thought – HOPED – that those men would just leave him be. But he wasn't that lucky. Of course he wasn't. He was special – in some twisted freaky kind of way. He'd never be left alone. He'd never find the peace he longed for.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Dean shifted again and stood up, getting to the man's side. "Okay, kid. - Let's see if you can walk." He straightened up and hissed as the abused muscles in right calf and hip protested against the movement.  
He gave Bobby a look.  
  
The older man went to the other side, gazing quizzically at Dean.  
"We're gonna try to walk you back to the road," Dean informed the omega. "You can lay down in the backseat." He kept his words cool and clinical.  
The ex hunter held his breath for a moment, trying to keep the man's unique odor out of his nose and away from his system. He hated it. He fucking hated the smell that radiated from omegas. And he hated what this smell was doing to his mind, telling him to protect. Telling him to give IT shelter and take care of it.  
  
That was ridiculous.  
Dean sighed deeply and braced himself for some kind of struggle from the omega. Though, nothing happened when he shoved his arm under the man's armpit. Bobby followed his example and together they pulled Sam up slowly.  
The younger man unfolded in an instant and let himself being helped up. The both of them wrapped their arms around the tall man's lower back and folded his arms around their necks for some leverage.  
  
"Dude. - How tall are you?" Dean burst out surprised, when he realized that the guy had about three inches on him.  
Sam didn't respond. He kept his head down, watching his own feet matching the alpha's pace as they started to walk towards the road. His whole body shook with the effort of trying to keep his long legs under him and trying to manage not to stumble over roots or even his own feet.  
It were just a couple of yards later, that Dean started to take over more and more weight. He shared a short glance with Bobby.  
  
"You okay there?" he tried to get a better look at the younger man's face. But no such luck. It was too dark and the omega's hair was too long, hiding most of the upper half of his face. "Kiddo?"  
Sam blew out a shuddering breath. Nope, he wasn't going to make it any further. Not with the thumping and the spinning in his head. Not with the way his legs were turning into jell-o.  
  
"Can't," he gasped.  
  
Rather surprised, Dean tightened his hold around the younger man and pulled him in closer. "Just a couple of yards."  
Sam's left leg gave out with its next step. So did his right one. All of a sudden, his vision grew grey and black at the edges, followed by a sudden change of hight.

...... to be continued


	2. Hunting Down Feelings, Saving Omegas, The Winchester Business

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Road So Far …  
>   
> "You okay there?" he tried to get a better look at the younger man's face. But no such luck. It was too dark and the omega's hair was too long, hiding most of the upper half of his face. "Kiddo?"  
> Sam blew out a shuddering breath. Nope, he wasn't going to make it any further. Not with the thumping and the spinning in his head. Not with the way his legs were turning into jell-o.  
> "Can't," he gasped.  
> Rather surprised, Dean tightened his hold around the younger man and pulled him in closer. "Just a couple of yards."  
> Sam's left leg gave out with its next step. So did his right one. All of a sudden, his vision grew grey and black at the edges, followed by a sudden change of hight.

Of course they had to carry the omega. Bastard  
  
Dean limped along at Bobby's side, one of the omega's legs in a deathgrip and his arm slung under his armpit, while Bobby had him on the other side. Both men were panting and gasping, when they eventually managed to wrestle him up the slope and more dragged than carried him the last few yards towards Dean's baby.  
  
It had to be mentioned, that Robert Singer was the one urging them in this direction, while Dean had rather aimed towards the older man's truck.  
The younger man gave Bobby a curious look, telling him without words that there was no way that he was the one to drive the omega back to the Salvage.  
"No way," Dean said, shaking his head, determined. "He's not drivin' in my car."  
  
"Well, boy. I can't have him lying beside a corpse on the bed of my pick up either. So deal with it." Bobby shifted the omega's torso a bit.  
Dean grunted. It'd take DAYS before the guy's scent would be gone. Those bastard's scents were worse than a wet dog ... That was eating itself into the upholstery and wouldn't vanish no matter what you'd try. And Dean Winchester knew what he was talking about.  
  
So the both of them maneuvered the unconcsious man onto the backseat of Dean's beloved vehicle, Bobby at his head-end, checking his pulse as soon as he was settled.  
Dean slammed the door shut, not caring that he jostled the omega's feet in the process. He was beyond pissed that he had – even when it was only for a few miles – one of those THINGS with him in the same car, stinking around in his baby.  
He made a disapproving sound, tapping on the hood of his car to let his old friend know that he should hurry the fuck up.  
Bobby only glared at him over the roof top.  
  
Sometimes he didn't understand the boy. It wasn't like this particular omega had hurt anyone. As far as they could tell, he was the victim in this – like omegas mostly were. The incident with that psycho-guy who had to burn down John and Mary Winchester's house had been a crazy freak. One among a mlilion, high likely.  
  
Though, the circumstances had been very blurry. Charles Cooper - The omega who had deliberately set the fire in the Winchester's house – had said, that he had to do it. The man had insisted, that some demon would come and poison a baby in the near future – in THIS house.  
Of course, the authorities hadn't believed a single word. Though the fact, that Mary had been indeed pregnant for about four weeks when she had died in the house fire.  
  
Back then, John Winchester had been furious. He had searched desperately for an explaination for what had happened. How this man could possibly believe every word he was saying. That was, until he found evidences that the supernatural may not only was the fidgement of some crazy-shit-guy. And until half a year later during his research, he met Robert Singer in Sioux Falls.  
  
Though, Dean didn't seem to mind the very fact that this may haven't been only the omega's fault. Bobby didn't think, that the omega had acted in the right way. No. But he also saw why Cooper had thought that he was doing the right thing back then.  
For Dean Winchester there was only black and white and nothing in between.  
  
"We clear?" Dean asked gruffly, already sitting behind the wheel and was waiting for the older man to step away from the car.  
Bobby gave him a sharp nod and stepped away from the car, eying the dirty, prone form in the backseat as Dean started his baby and tore away, past the pick up truck and vanished in the darkness.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Fifteen minutes later, they crossed the entrance of the salvage, and pulled up in front of Bobby Singer's house.  
Mere yards away, there was a police car parked and against its side a woman was leaning, wearing a sheriff's uniform. She tipped her hat up as the lights of the Impala grazed her and looked towards it, pushing away from the vehicle.  
Dean killed the engine and tore the door open, hopping outside with a grunt as he had forgotten what a wrong movement would do to his sore joints and muscles.  
  
She watched him curiously, as he brushed past her and onto the porch, aiming for the front-door. He didn't give her as much as a brief nod and a short glance before he started to search the withered bush in a huge plant-pot beside it.  
Everyone in a freaking five-hundred yards radious could tell, that Dean Winchester was beyond pissed.  
Bobby emerged from his pick up seconds later and went straight for Dean's car and the door of the backseat, which he wrenched open without bothering to greet Jody Mills, who was now sauntering towards him.  
  
Meanwhile, Dean found the key and opened the front-door, snapping the switch upwards and the lights in the hallway flickered on. When he turned around, Bobby and Sheriff Mills were already working on getting the giant omega out of the car.  
Much to the Winchester's relief. The lesser he had to do with that guy the better it was. For all of them.  
So Dean watched them curiously, with an annoyed expression on his face while he held the front door open.  
"Where'd you want him?!" he called over to the both of them.  
  
They were still struggling with the omega's long legs, so instead of waiting for them to finally get the guy out of there, he could probably make himself useful and clear their path as soon as they freed his baby from the omega.  
Both paused, their head snapping towards Dean and they gave the ex-hunter a murdering glare.  
"How about you get your ass over here and lend us a hand?" Jody called out, raising an eyebrow, as she used her mom-voice on the Winchester.  
Dean's lips formed a tight line. "I'd have dumped him at the hospital," he muttered, "but NOOOO, we need to take that bitch back to the Salvage. Have to have him ruin my car. And it's fucking stinkin' ..."  
  
"Dean Jonah Winchester." Jody slung her arm around the unconcsious man's middle as she jostled the omega's arm around her neck.  
Bobby did the same.  
"We can not dump him at the hospital. The Miller's are dead and the ranch looks abandoned so far. - Traces of about ten vamps. - So no hospital, boy." Jody gave him a stern look. "It's a damn nest and I sure as hell won't dump him somewhere without protection." The lines on her face were a mixture of strain and anger.  
  
Dean glanced back at her in the same manner, telling himself that she was right. And that if this wasn't an omega, he wouldn't even think about dumping the guy at a hospital at all. No matter how bitter this pill seemed, he needed to get over it and deal with the fact that this one would stuck around for a week or maybe two. If he was able to track down the nest faster, maybe less than a week.  
  
Nothing he wouldn't be able to deal with. Just one week of Jasmine, Moss and Wood. Actually he didn't even have to see that guy (though there was still the fact that he had to smell him). Bobby could interrogate him – after all he was a seasoned hunter and knew better how to talk to victims than he possibly could.  
Besides, he had gotten pretty rusty in this whole comunication thing. Not to mention that this one was an omega ...  
  
Eventually the Sheriff and Bobby managed to get the omega inside. First they had babbled something about a room upstairs, but decided otherwise since they were already out of their breaths as soon as they carried the man over the threshold into the house. So they agreed on getting him on the couch in the living room.  
  
Dean kept leaning against the door-frame, watching Bobby and the Sheriff settling the omega there and arranging his limbs so that he would lie more comfortable. Bobby brushed past Dean, nudging his shoulder in the process (and high likely deliberately) as he went to get another blanket.  
"I'll call Pastor Jim," Dean said and pulled the phone from his jeans, flipping it open. He informed the Pastor aka hunter, aka ex-military-doctor about the omega and that they needed someone to have a look at him. He filled him in on what had happened too.  
  
The Pastor – of course – knew why they chose to call him isntead of getting the man into a hospital.  
When that was done, Dean went into Bobby's kitchen and laid the machete right next to him on the counter while he prepared the coffee-maker to brew them all some black gold.  
  
He heard the sheriff and Bobby's muffled voices in the living room, while he leaned there and waited for the coffee to be done.  
Of course it wasn't that easy. The pull and want to walk over into the other room and join their conversation as soon as the omega's odor started to infiltrate his nostrils once more was agonizing to say the least.  
God blessed his ability of will-power not to do so.  
He would have to go in there anyway at some point. Just not now.  
  
The coffee maker gurgled as the rest of the water got transported upwards to drop into the filter with brown powder, when Jody emerged. She held her hat in both hands, tracing the seam of it, while she walked up beside Dean and leaned against the counter beside him.  
"Miller's farm was empty," she talked up after a torturing ammount of silence. "There's evidence that there was a nest though. We found the family in the shed. All drawn of blood with bite-marks." Jody stole a glance at Dean and sighed. "I know Henry. - I mean ... I knew him. For years. I'd have never thought ... He didn't change. - How could I not notice?"  
  
Dean looked over at her. "You wouldn't. - There were no deaths before, were there? Maybe he got turned recently ... Maybe ... I don't know either ... And an omega? Since when would they keep an omega. They would know that someone would be lookin' for him. That there's no way that someone wouldn't notice." ... because of his scent. Because of the way omegas scents spread and soak into fabric and wouldn't be able to be washed out or cleaned away. "Where'd he even keep him?"  
  
Jody shrugged. "Guess we'll find out as soon as he wakes up."  
Dean nodded to himself. "Bobby's gonna keep him?"  
It was Jody's turn to nod. "Yeah. - Until the nest's found and cleared out ... Or until he's ready to leave or return to his family or whatever. I'll take a picture of him later and let it run through our records. Maybe there's something." She paused again. "'I sent Joshua to the club to close it down. Get the people out of there, so we can check it out tomorrow after the Millers."  
  
The coffee-maker went silent behind them. Dean took this as his cue to turn around and get three mugs from the cupboard above the sink and fill them up with the black gold and shots of milk.  
"You stayin'?" Dean asked.  
  
"I'm just waitin' for Jim to check him over. For the records. I'll get Josh and Jo to keep watch around the house in case Henry's death didn't go down unnoticed by his nest ... IF there's a nest he belongs to. When they're here I'll head back home." She paused for a brief moment. "Tomorrow we're gonna check out the Miller's farm by daylight, when the forensics are done. You're comin' too?"  
Dean glanced over into the living room, catching a glimpse of Bobby's butt as he bowed down over the omega.  
Something Dean Winchester rather not wanted to see.  
"Yeah. Sure."  
  
"Fine." She gave him a soft smile. "And ..." She cleared her throat. "For the omega ... he'll be gone before you know it. So ... Don't be too hard on him, okay? He ain't Cooper. He didn't hurt anyone as far as we know."  
Dean had to smile back – at least a bit. Jody might had this mom-voice sometimes, but she also had this soft side hidden beneath a rough shell. She was amazing. She really was.  
  
He gave her a look. She gave him a look back. "I know it sure ain't easy on you, Dean." She patted his shoulder. "But I think you know what's right, right?"  
He nodded and cast his look down. Sure he knew what was right, but he also couldn't change his feelings about the omega next door, whose damn scent would be fucking everywhere by the morning.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Pastor Jim came around an hour later, wearing his priest's uniform, heavy black boots, a black coat and a hat. He looked tired due the early morning-hours in which he had been called. Though, his dull eyes enlightened with sparks of life as soon as the unique scent of the omega crawled up his nose.  
  
It was a mixture of Wood, Moss and Jasmine – actually too feminine – too sweet - for a male omega. There was also fear lingering in the scent. And blood.  
At least it seemed that way, since the beta stopped dead in his tracks right after entering Bobby's house. The pastor's grip on his medical kit tightened and his knuckles turned white.  
  
He didn't even have to ask where the omega was, he just had to follow its scent into the living room.  
Bobby, Jody and Dean were in there too.  
Bobby sat in the recliner he had pulled up right beside the couch where the omega's head rested on a pillow. Jody sat on the coffee-table and Dean leaned against the wall, his arms crossed in front of his chest, beside the fire place.  
  
The omega's eyes were wide open, his gaze darting around between the three of them warily. His lips were pressed into a tight line and he had inched back against the backrest of the couch as far as possible, pressing himself into the withered upholstery.  
There was an ugly big scar across the right side of his face, reaching from the very top of his forehead, parting his brow and down over his cheek to shy where the corner of his mouth was.  
  
He hadn't said a single word. He hadn't dared to. After all he didn't know what those people were up to ...  
He scrambled up into a straighter position, startling everyone present at the sudden movement, when Pastor Jim thumped into the room, the heavy footfalls on the wood audible in the whole house.  
  
Dean tensed visibly, his jaw working, while his gaze never left the omega.  
"Hey." Jody rose from the table, for one to greet the pastor and second to make place.  
"Jim." Bobby nodded towards him a hopeful smile on his face, before he drew his attention back at the young man on the couch. "That's Jim," he said to carmly. "He's a friend. - He's gonna have a look at you, boy."  
  
Bobby didn't extend his hand to touch him and give his shoulder a reassuring squeeze – nope. He wasn't the touchy feely guy. After all the man was a grown up between twenty-five and thirty. AND the omega was frightened. A touch might scare him off even more.  
  
Jim greeted Dean with a short nod, before he walked over to the couch and sat his bag on the table. He then took his hat and laid it beside the black medical kit and shrugged off his coat, reveiling an even as black robe as the color of the coat was – except for the white collar around his neck.  
"Jim sighed and slipped in between the table and the couch, sitting down on it and leaned forward, catching the omega's gaze.  
  
"Hey. I'm Jim Murphy." The white haired man with bushy eye-brows extended his hand.  
The omega pressed himself further into the corner of the couch, eying the hand warily.  
He pulled it back again, when the young man wouldn't take it. "You hurtin', kid?" He took in the omega's bruised yaw, cheek-bone and temple. The pastor eyed the split lower lip and bruised, exposed arms, with which he was holding up the blanket against his chest.  
The omega shook his head.  
  
"You sure?" The pastor lowered his voice a bit. "You look like you got beaten up pretty good ..." Jim bit his lower lip and seemed to think for a moment. "My friend ... Dean ..." He nodded over his shoulder towards the man who leaned against the wall. "... He told me you're hurt. That ... that you look like you went ten rounds with Ty Olsson."  
"Joe Frazier," Dean muttered and rolled his eyes.  
  
Jim Murphy ignored him and put on a soft smile, pointing at the omega's torso. "He said you have a wound ... on your side ... and that there's a lot of blood on your shirt."  
  
The omega followed the older man's finger towards his own upper bodyhalf and frowned.  
There was no way he'd let them have his clothes. No way, he'd let them make him undress. They had tried before.  
Eventually , he had woken up as they were about to cut his shirt open, but he wouldn't be Sam if he wouldn't have fought them off. Much to his surprise they had pulled back and had given him the blanket back.  
  
Jim looked at him concerned.  
Sam blinked his long lashes at the old man, his brows knitting together. The circles of green hazel-eyes shone darkly back at the pastor.  
"Why not sedate him. - 's gonna make it easier on him and you?" Dean spoke up and sighed, pushing away from the wall.  
Three heads wiped around towards him, glaring daggers into his direction. The fourth pair of eyes went immensely huge and utterly terrified.  
"Dean." Jody hissed, while his two male friends seemed too perplexed to find words.  
"We won't sedate you, kid," Bobby huffed out as he looked back at Sam and shook his head.  
  
"We won't do anything you don't want us to do." Pastor Jim leaned a bit more forward. "Maybe we should start off with something easier? Your name maybe?"  
Sam's lips moved a bit but didn't part.  
  
There was silence.  
  
Sam was observing the three persons for quite some time, until Jim sighed heavily and leaned back again. He turned around to face them and nodded towards the door. "Why don't you guys go and get yourselves some coffee, while I'm talking to him, 'kay?"  
Dean's nose scrunched up a bit and he muttered something as he stalked out of the living-room, Jody and Bobby following him.  
  
Pastor Jim closed the sliding door behind them and returned to the omega. This time he sat down on the couch beside him, instead of the couch table. He took care of it, that there was at least half a yard in between him and the omega. He had seen people like him before. Frightened. Terrified. Traumatized for life.  
Jim had been in the army, had survived two wars, had seen a whole lot fo brave men die in the lazarettes and only a few survive. He wasn't someone to give up that easy. Not when he could help it.  
  
"So ... You wanna tell me your name?" he asked without looking at the omega directly.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Jo and Caleb arrived about half an hour later and Jody left with the promise to pick Dean up the next morning to take a closer look at the Miller's Farm and Savanger's club.  
Dean found himself his old room to flip down on the dusty bed and get a couple of hours sleep while Jim still seemed to be busy with the omega. He hadn't come out of the living room once for the past hour or so.  
  
Though, his hopes to get some rest were fruitless. Dean sighed after another try to calm down his racing mind and opened his eyes, staring at the ceiling for a long time. He then gazed at the machete on the bedside table and pursed his lips.  
Nope, there was no way he'd be able to sleep now, so there wasn't any use of laying in bed either.  
  
With an annoyed grunt, he swung his legs out of bed as he sat up on its side and took a deep inhale. Again he groaned, as the omega's scent bore into his brain mercilessely.  
Nope, no way he'd be able to sleep like that. Not with that smell in his nose and his damned instincts telling him to protect what he actually hated. Dean got up with a huff, straightened his clothes and walked around the bed to pick up his machete.  
  
He didn't want anything more than to go back around to his own four walls and crash on his own bed. But he couldn't. Not for the love of everything that was holy to him. He knew about the possibility, that the vamp-nest could seek revenge or felt the urge to kill the one person that could reveal them.  
  
So no. He wouldn't leave Bobby's house until the break of dawn when the chances were still high that they could possibly come by to get back what was theirs – or to get revenge for one of their guys death's. After all there were Bobby and Jim – two men who meant a lot to him. Men he didn't want to lose.  
Dean rubbed over his face and groaned on his way to the door.  
  
The very moment he pressed the handle downwards, he heard a cry, a yell and clattering noises from downstairs. It didn't even take him a second to switch into huntermode. He practically flew through the corridor and flung himself around the corner and down the stairs, getting to a hold in the middle of the hall.  
The door to the living room was open and a groaning Jim lay on the ground, holding his head.  
  
To the other side, smack in the threshold of the kitchen, Bobby made a very similar noise, holding his nose, as distant foot falls hit lose gravel.  
Dean hissed through gritted teeth. He turned towards the living room and hurried to get an already filled syringe from the medical kit, Jim had brought along. He checked the label, before he hurried back into the hall and through the open front-door.  
  
Dean then stopped for a minute as he found himself at the foot of the porch and looked around, listening.  
The omega wasn't exactly silent at all. Despite his raged breaths, there were these frightened noises he made. His bare feet hitting gravel. Hands sliding along metal. Groaning metal, charring and creaking under a weight.  
  
And, there was still his scent. Strong and impregnating. Filled with sheer terror and fear.  
Dean knew exactly where he was.  
Baby-blue '53 Buick. Two car-stacks forth and three to the left.  
A sly grin spread on his face as he fisted the machete tightly. "Gotcha," he ground out and took off from where he stood, shoving the gravel under his boots backwards and sending tiny kernels of it flying onto the porch's stairs.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Sam leaned against a stack of carwrecks. He shqueezed his eyes shut tightly and held his left side with his right hand, waiting for the pain to subside.  
He didn't even know where to go ... where he was. Those people ... they wouldn't be any different than Henry's. Those people had killed Henry. He just knew that he needed to get away – to run. He needed to RUN. And though, his legs wouldn't obey. Couldn't.  
  
So he leaned there against the metalic surface, trying to catch his breath.  
Oh god. No. He couldn't. If he could only remember what it was like before. Who he had been before all this screwed up shit had happened. He knew he was supposed to remember. It was in there somehwere.  
  
At least he knew his own name. He could remember his mother's voice – at least he thought it was hers ... At least it was a female one, calling his name in a soft way. Calling him Sammy. Calling him Cupcake ...  
If he could only remember where he belonged, where he could go ...  
He sucked in a deep breath and held it for a long moment before he released it again.  
A loud "Hey!" startled him out of his thoughts and back to the present.  
The beam of a flashlight hit him straight into the face, the figure on its other end a bulky blur, seemingly wearing a thick jacket and a hat.  
"What are you doin' out here?" it asked, coming closer.  
  
The omega's pupils pulled together as he squinted at the figure. A beta, when his senses didn't betray him completely. He inched back along the wrecked car's side, fingers sliding tentatively along the rusty baby-blue paint.  
"Wait," it said, stopping in its tracks. "Everything's okay, buddy. No one's gonna hurt you."  
He stopped and squinted into the light once more.  
  
It narrowed again, while babbling nonsense about safety and vampires and danger. Though, he couldn't make any sense of it. He didn't want to make sense out of it.  
There was no place he'd be safe. He knew that. Henry had made that clear a long time ago. Had told him the very thing just before he made the omega swallow an ugly looking thick black liquid.  
The omega inched further back along the car. The beta kept following him, CROWDING him.  
He squinted into the bright light as he withdrew further, one hand against the cold metal beside him.  
  
When he heard the gravel behind him crunch, it was already too late. A pair of arms came up behind him and locked around his middle, drawing him back tightly.  
"NO!" the omega yelled furiously as he struggled, incrediously long limbs flying. "No!"

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Dean watched the omega's shadow move as he lingered behind the car-stack, waiting for his chance. Josh was babbling shit about safety and that no one wanted to hurt the omega. At least the police deputy was drawing the omega's attention at him and away from the ex-hunter.  
He watched thin fingers curl around the corner of the cool metal, just inches from where he was standing and grinned.  
  
Dean lowered the machete to the ground slowly, while he let the syringe disappear in the backpocket of his jeans. He might not need it. After all the omega was in no shape to fight a good fight.  
He gave the man another fifteen seconds, before he stepped out of his hiding and wrapped his arms around the omega's middle.  
Instantly, the taller man's limbs started to fly, his long arms trying to worm their way out of the tight lock.  
The ex-hunter tightened his grip, having serious trouble to keep his hold on him. He grunted, when a sharp ellbow hit him in the ribs.  
  
"NO!", the omega yelled, "No!"  
  
"Dammit," Dean ground out, letting himself drop backwards and taking the man with him in an attempt to rob all advantage from him. "Hold still!"  
But the omega wouldn't listen, struggling against him, trying to get out of there. He even tried to hit the alpha somewhere – anywhere.  
A kick to Dean's knee and he started to get seriously pissed. "Damn FREAKS!" he yelled, sneaking one of his legs around a flying limb – one of the omega's legs. "Would you calm the fuck down already?!" he hissed, his mouth so close to the other man's ear.  
  
"Let me go!" he yelled, his struggles becoming weaker as he wiggled his body in attempt to break free. "Please ... please ... let me go ... let me go," he whimpered, clawing on fabric and skin.  
Somehow the omega had managed to turn around in Dean's grasp, tearing and tugging violently on his shirt.  
"I can't," Dean said panting, his words lacking any emotion. "I can't let you go."  
The omega broke down in sobs, weeping, fisting Dean's favorite grey shirt in his hands. "Don't bring me back. Please. Don't. Let me go ... I won't come back. I promise, I won't come back. Don't ... Don't do this. Please ... don' hurt me."  
  
Dean felt his throat close up, torn between shushing the pathetically whimpering omega and telling him to shut the fuck up and stand like a man.  
So he chose to say nothing.  
Instead he sat up with the man on top of him, though not letting go in case that this was a trick and he'd try to bolt again. Because he had so no sense for shit like that right now.  
Dean exhaled audibly.  
  
The beam of a flashlight shone right into his face. He sqinted his eyes closed, casting his look aside and burying his nose in a mop of shaggy hair in the process. Dena groaned at the intensive smell hitting his olfactory system.  
"You guys okay?" the guy behind the flashlight said, training it to the side slightly.  
Dean let go of the sobbing omega with one hand and reached back into the backpocket of his jeans. He pulled the filled syringe out and uncapped it with two fingers.  
  
"It's gonna be okay," Dean murmured.  
Sam was sobbing into his chest, clawing and pushing weakly at the thin fabric of the alpha's shirt. Weirdly enough, the man's scent wasn't scaring him as much as it should be. The alpha's odor appealed somehow comforting, despite that it shouldn't. He was supposed to feel frightened. He was supposed to feel like he needed to take his feet in his hands and run. But he was flat out terrified of him.  
  
There was a pinch in his bicep. Moments later, his head and limbs started to feel heavy. So did his eyelids.  
A choked sob fell from his lips, saliva gathering in his mouth, as his tongue started to feel thick.  
Dean threw the emptied syringe away, feeling the taller man's body going limp against him.  
  
Sam's eyes dropped shut and his mind grew foggy. All of a sudden he couldn't remember why he was crying and why he was feeling cold and sleepy.  
He couldn't tell if it were seconds or minutes or even hours later, that fatigue started to overtake him and pull him down into darkness.  
  
The last thing he heard, was static and the beta saying "We've got him, Bobby."

... to be continued

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to GOTHPANDAOTAKU for proofreading my totally messed up attempts on writing in english!
> 
> facebook.com/bruisedbloodybroken


	3. Disturbia

Fields Of Jasmine  
Chapter 3 ~ Disturbia  
   
Dean blew out a strangled breath, shifting the prone body in his arms as he stood.  
"Fucking freaks," he muttered.  
"You need any help?" Joshua asked as he came to his side.  
"Fuck no," Dean muttered, "Just ... take the lead. Don't wanna trip." He pointed down at the gravel where his machete was lying.  
Caleb nodded, picked up the hunter's weapon and marched forward, showing the way back to Bobby's house.  
They weren't even halfway there when Bobby appeared before them, his sawed off in his hands.  
"Got him," Josh called out.  
  
There was a faint grunt hearable and Bobby stopped in his tracks, adjusting his ball cap. "He hurt?"  
The deputy glanced back at Dean. "Nah. Only out for the count," he said, when they were right up with Bobby.  
Actually, the omega wasn't as heavy as Dean had thought. Besides, he didn't feel a whole lot of flesh on those bones either. Actually it looked like the guy wasn't as muscular as he had thought at first. At least his strength while he was struggling had  made him think that the omega had to be at least a bit muscular.  
  
Sorry ass bastard.  
They were back in the house minutes later. Dean dumped the omega back on the couch, not very careful either. He took a couple of steps back and looked down on his shirt, feeling a slight burn on his neck.  
"Gotcha good," Bobby muttered as he passed him on his way to the couch to check on the young man. "Drugged him?" He didn't look up.  
Josh cleared his throat and tipped his head up. "I'll be back outside," he said.  
Dean gave him a nod.  
  
Pastor Jim greeted the deputy as he reentered the living room, rubbing the back of his head absently.  
Dean looked up at him with a smirk. "Should've used the sedative before, buddy."  
Jim glared at him. "I'd rather preferred him not drugged. - Looks like he's been through enough," he grumbled. "What'd you think he'll think about what we've done to him when he wakes up in different clothes, cleaned up and in a bed instead the couch?Without a memory about what happened, Dean."  
  
The ex-hunter cocked his head to the side, looking at the pastor bored. "He'll be grateful for all the work we're putting into him." He paused, taking in Jim's pissed features. "I'm not sorry, if you mean that. I'd do it again. - If you'd done it in the first place, he wouldn't have knocked the both of you out, huh?" His grin turned smug as he looked over at Bobby, who looked aside with a huff, obviously avoiding the ex-hunter. "How come a hurt omega can possibly knock down two seasoned hunters anyway?"  
  
"Aw, shut up, boy," Bobby huffed out.  
Dean chuckled. "He's gonna be out for a couple of hours anyway. Better you both hurry up." He pursed his lips gleefully. "BEFORE he jumps you again."  
"You know you're a real bitch when you're not gettin' enough sleep?" Bobby asked.  
Jim grinned.  
  
Dean glared, then looked at the clock on the wall. He sighed. "Close to six. - guess I'm crashing in my own bed for an hour or so." He smacked his lips. "You guys sure you'll be okay with him? All by yourselves?"  
Jim ignored him.  
Bobby gave him a look, which warned him not to tease too much.  
Chuckling, the ex-hunter waved at them and left.  
   
~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~  
   
Dean left both grizzled hunters with an unconscious, hurt omega on their own. And he didn't feel sorry or like he had to be there at all. NOT at all.  
So, Bobby started to clean up the room upstairs, while Pastor Jim cut the omega's jeans loose. Jim blew out a breath through his nose, as his gaze fell on the young man's bruised legs and dirty, cut feet. His features became grim, when he cut the clean boxers open. Ever so carefully he moved further up to remove the omega's former plaid shirt, peeling away the sticky material from torn skin.  
  
The Pastor hissed at the sight, when he was done and leaned back to get the greater picture of the man's injuries. Sure, there was a whole lot of dried blood and dirt, but there also were old scars visible ... Scars that looked like a pattern ... a sign ...  
Jim frowned, staring intently as if though he was capable of looking through all that grime. After a long time, he got up and pulled a blanket over the young man, before he went to get a basin and washcloths.  
  
Jim reentered the living room again on silent feet as if he would wake the omega if he'd be too loud. He muttered something under his breath, putting the basin on the table beside his medical kit and wringedthe first washcloth out.  
"Lets get you cleaned up then ..." the pastor murmured, as he started with the man's face.  
   
~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~  
   
Dean Winchester didn't sleep. He didn't even doze. He lay in his small house behind Bobby's in his bedroom, on his bed, on top of the covers, showered and dressed in fresh clothes, staring at the ceiling in the darkness.  
He glanced over at the red numbers of his clock, reading 06:49, while massaging his right thigh up and down from the hip to his knee.  
He groaned and let his eyes slide shut for another couple of minutes. He knew he shouldn't have carried the giant guy back to the house. Not only because his clothes were drenched in the omega's scent now. His old injury was hurting like a bitch.  
  
Dean had stuffed his worn clothes into a plastic bag and dumped all of it in the trash. Except for his leather jacket. This one was in a separate bag, tied up and resting on the couch in the living room. He'd take it to the cleaners when he was in town to check out the club. Hopefully they'd be able to get the omega's stench out of the leather.  
Somehow he did feel sorry for that guy. The way he had fought him, had tried to get away. So desperate. So afraid. It nearly had gotten to him. Stupid idiot that he was.  
Of course – deep down – he knew that this one wasn't the guilty one. This omega was a victim. He also knew that this one might not deserve his anger and rage. That this omega wasn't Cooper.  
  
But he couldn't change what he felt, right? He couldn't just forget about what an omega had done to his family – what they all were doing and how they were acting. The way they wiggled others around their little fingers just to get what they wanted.  
Omegas were a whole new kind of evil even if they might not even notice it themselves. But they were.  
So no. He didn't need to feel sorry for that guy. There was no need to show pity or feel challenged to protect this being. That omega would find his way through the aftermath. They all did.  
  
Dean could show him, that not every alpha or beta lay at his feet, running after him like a horny dog.  He'd show him, that he wasn't affected by what he was. That he didn't need the affection of an omega to feel like a man.  
After all he was Dean Winchester. He could have anyone at any time. No matter if woman or man. Just not an omega.  
   
~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~  
   
Hidden in the darkness of the ongoing night, Bobby's pick up was parked right behind Dean's black baby, far off from everyone's attention. It was misted in complete darkness though ...  
Something in the cocoon of a woolen blanket twitched. It moved. Then there was nothing.  
Another twitch and wiggle and thick fingers curled around the corner at the upper side of it.  
At it's feet, the blanket shifted and tented and the next moment, something big and heavy rolled out from under it. The ball-like thing was blocked by the door of the load-bed, revealing a pair of black eyes, gleaming at the very moment the clouds tore apart and revealed a perfect full moon.  
  
Henry Savanger's eyes blinked, his mouth twitched and eventually curled up into a sly grin.  
   
~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~  
   
It was already past seven when he entered Bobby's house with a plastic bag in his left hand.  
The sun wasn't even up and it wouldn't be for another hour probably. Dean dumped the bag beside the front door and moved into the kitchen silently, searching for either Bobby or Jim to ask how the omega was doing and when they thought he'd be able to answer his questions.  
God forbid he'd name it an interrogation.  
  
After all the both of them didn't see the guy from last night as a threat at all – obviously. Otherwise they wouldn't have let their guards down.  
Bobby startled him, as he appeared behind him in the kitchen door, rubbing over his tired face.  
  
"Hey boy."  
Dean spun around and gave him a smug grin. He hadn't seen the old man that tired in ... well, in an eternity. "Mornin'."  
"Jody here already?" Bobby sauntered over to the counter and poured himself a mug of coffee. Black. With five spoons of sugar.  
The ex-hunter sniffed. "Nope."  
  
Bobby huffed out a breath. He didn't look at his younger friend. It kind of looked like he TRIED not to look at him. And the silence between them seemed rather awkward.  
"So ... about the omega ..." Dean began, eyeing Bobby from the corner of his eyes.  
"Didn't talk to Jim yet. - I've let him crash on my bed when we were done with the boy." He merely looked at Dean, catching a curious glimpse into his direction. Bobby's face screwed up at the bitter cold liquid and he put the mug aside.  
  
Dean continued to stare at him from the corners of his eyes.  
Bobby – for the seasoned hunter he was – sensed that he was watched and tried not to stare back, or try to steal glimpses at his younger friend at all.  
"Don' lie to me. Jim told you somethin'," Dean said calmly.  
  
"Yeah well. Jim told me not to tell anyone about it, so I'll keep my mouth shut." And that was that. Bobby wouldn't say another word about it, Dean knew him that good.  
"He ain't mute. Is he deaf?" Of course the older hunter had to count on Dean guessing his way through if he didn't get an answer.  
"Don't ask me. I won't tell," Bobby gave back and pushed himself away from the counter, his cheeks slightly flushed – what was actually visible even through the thick beard covering his face.  
  
"Fine. So not deaf ..." The ex-hunter smirked. "Did they ..." He thought for a moment, his eyes rolling up. "... Did they castrate him?" Dean didn't really mean it. He just went along and since he saw the old man hardly blush it had to be something he wouldn't want to talk about.  
  
So since Bobby wasn't the guy who wouldn't take the word "rape" in his mouth, it had to be something of the latter.  
The seasoned hunter turned bright red.  
"Dean!" he hissed and stalked out of the kitchen, crossed the hall and went into the living room.  
Dean stayed where he was – shell-shocked. His smug grin draining from his face slowly as a shudder coursed through his body.  
The left corner of his mouth turned upwards, while the right one didn't seem to know what to do. The skin on his forehead creased in utter disbelief and somewhat like disgust.  
   
~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~  
   
The omega became aware of the surrounding warmth and comfortable, soft surface he was resting on. He felt the warmth of the sun prickle on his face and the light shining through his eyelids as he clawed his way out of the deepest sleep he thought ever had.  
Whatever it was that was covering him, it felt as soft as the ground beneath. The only thing that seemed to be even softer was the unbelievable fluffy pillow his head was resting on.  
  
All that might have made him forget about the stab wound in his side and bruises all over his body if it hadn't been for the pain they caused.  
He winced.  
The omega gave himself another couple of minutes. Thinking. Trying to remember what had happened.  
Was he dead?  
No, he wasn't. Because there had been those men, killing Henry.  
Those men.  
The alpha.  
A beta. Actually three of them ...  
  
Though, the alpha's scent was the only one he could recall properly – besides, it was still on him. The musky smell of old wood and aftershave and oil. What brought him close to the memory about what happened after he had knocked both the old men down ... and then he felt himself run.  
Nothing after that though.  
Obviously he didn't make it and they got the drop on him.  
The omega's face darkened.  
They had gotten the drop on him.  
  
He tried to swallow, but his throat was too dry. He tried to move his arms, but they felt too heavy. Though, he wouldn't give up. He couldn't. He'd fight this. He'd fight them.  
A groan fell from his lips. "Get a grip Sam," he murmured to himself hoarsely, "Don't let them get to you." Though, his bottom lip quivered at the very thought of finding himself in the same situation he had been before.  
  
Well, he didn't know that for sure, but he could guess. He had gotten good at guessing during those past months anyway.  
Before he could stop himself, thick hot tears were rolling down the line of his lower eyelids and down his cheeks, soaking his hair and the  pillow under his head. Sam choked back a sob and closed his eyes tightly for a moment, before he opened them again.  
That was about the moment he noticed, that his own scent and the one of the two older betas weren't the only ones in this room. There was also the smell of food.  
  
Toast. Eggs. Pancakes. Coffee. COFFEE.  
  
Sam swallowed, saliva gathering in his mouth.  
He hadn't had coffee in ... hell, he didn't know in how long. And Pancakes ... Oh god, Pancakes.  
He turned his head to the side slowly, blinking his wet long lashes at the nightstand, on which a tray was. A tray with a mug. A glass with yellow liquid. A plate with what looked like eggs, pancakes and maybe even toast. - Fresh toast.  
  
There was a small smile tugging on Sam's lips and he made a sound between a sob and a laugh. For a long moment he didn't know what to think ... what to DO.  
There could be roofies mixed into one of them or everything. Which actually dazed his anticipation about fresh food.  
Eventually he decided to screw it and started an attempt to get himself up into a sitting position.  
But failed. Miserably.  
His vision started to swim. Sam's heart sped up until it jack-hammered against his rib-cage and his side gave a protesting stab of pain. He let himself sink back into the soft mattress and pillow.  
  
Sam gave himself another couple of minutes, over-thinking his possibilities and decided that he'd rather try to shove himself backwards and up against the headboard of the bed.  
Of course he managed to shove himself back against the headboard and lift the tablet into his lap. Once done, he eyed the food before him once again. This time noticing a white small pill between the mug and the glass with orange juice.  
His forehead creased and his eyebrows furrowed.  
  
Of course he knew what pills were. But he also remembered that they could either be something good, or something bad.  
Those people didn't give him food for not wanting something in exchange.  
Sam pursed his lips, eyeing the contents on the tray warily.  
His stomach gave a protesting grumble as he thought about not touching the food. He was – in fact – hungry. More than that. He felt like starving.  
Yeah, so screw it.  
  
With that, and before he could think of not even attempting to taste the food, he shoved his hand into the heap of eggs and stuffed it into his mouth. Sam didn't bother chewing it properly. He dug in, swallowing hand-full after hand-full of the luke-warm food.  
When nothing was left on the plate, Sam gulped down the coffee without even tasting it's bitter-sweet taste.  
The omega sighed. His gaze landed on the pill. Maybe it was a painkiller? Henry gave him medications sometimes. Like ... when he had been sick for the first time.  
He had a bad fever and stomach cramps and felt like shit.  
  
Sam took the small little pill between his sticky fingers and popped it in, gulping it down with the glass of orange juice.  
When he was all done, he leaned back against the headboard, let his head sink back against the hard wood and closed his eyes.  
He burped.  
His stomach gave a satisfied noise.  
Sam sighed contently.  
  
Who knew when he'd get something to eat again. Who knew how long they'd let him have the bed and comforter.  
Minutes later, when he opened his eyes again, he noticed that the pain in his side started to subside ... so did his bruised ribs and jaw. Besides that, he started to feel a bit loopy, though not in the bad way.  
It was a very good way ...  
Sam grinned.  
  
Slowly, things didn't seem so bad anymore. He didn't feel as bothered as he had been before too. And that felt good.  
Real good.  
As if he didn't need to care ... to feel like he had to care.  
Which felt good too.  
   
~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~  
   
Sam didn't know how long he had been sitting in bed like this. He even might have dozed off again.  
Right then he couldn't even tell what had woken him – or what had taken him back into the present. Until he took a deep inhale ... and the scent of an alpha. His eyes snapped open and catapulted his senses into overdrive.  
  
Sam's head snapped around towards the door.  
It was open.  
And the alpha who smelled like oil and old wood leaned in the threshold, his arms crossed in front of his chest, staring at the omega intently.  
Sam's pupils were blown wide, the hazel barely visible. His jaw was set and the muscles in his neck were working furiously as his throat closed up on  him.  
"You're awake," Dean said, pushing away from the door frame. He sauntered over to the lonely chair at the wall opposite of the bed and took it, dragging it over right beside the bed.  
  
He was limping slightly.  
Sam pressed himself tighter into the pillow, when the alpha leaned over, reaching into his direction. The omega's heart leaped up at the sudden closeness and intoxicating scent of an alpha so close to him.  
He made a small sound, eyeing the man wearily, as he reached for the tray and put it back on the nightstand before he slumped down in the chair. Dean rested his lower arms on the armrests, his head tilted to the side slightly as his gaze was trained at the frightened being.  
  
He could smell it the very moment he straightened up in his chair again. The unbelievably intense fear and utter terror.  
"I have some questions. And you need to answer," Dean said calmly.  
Sam swallowed. Hard.  
"You know what Henry was?" Dean asked casually.  
Sam nodded.  
"How many have been in the nest?" the ex-hunter asked. Dean leaned back again, taking the strain from his hip.  
Sam cast his look down, blinking up through long lashes and dark bangs.  
  
Dean pursed his lips. The omega was quite a looker – well, despite the lack of meat on his bones and too long, shaggy chestnut-brown hair. Actually, if it wouldn't have been for his scent and the fact that he WAS an omega, this guy would've seemed like any other victim to him.  
The omega whispered something – so softly, Dean didn't catch it.  
"How many?" he asked again, keeping his voice casual.  
  
Sam looked up again, catching the ex-hunter's gaze. "I don't know," he whispered and looked away again.  
Dean huffed out a breath. Of course the guy wouldn't cooperate. There was no way he didn't know how many of them were there. NO way. "C'mon, buddy. You're tellin' me that you don't know how many there were?" He rose both eyebrows. The alpha's voice was sharp and stung. "That's ... not true."  
Sam's mind was a turmoil of emotions – mostly negative ones.  And all of them were so loud, he couldn't get a handle of a single one of his thoughts right now.  
Dean leaned forward a bit, knowing that it had to be uncomfortable for the man on the bed. He did it anyway.  
"How many? And don't lie to me. I know that you know." His voice was low, dangerously husky, as if it was meant as a threat rather than a question. "I can make you tell me the truth.  I'm not all soft when it comes to omegas. Not like the others. So you better spill, kid." THAT was definitely a threat.  
  
The alpha's message was pretty clear.  
"I don't know," Sam repeated stuttering. "I really don't." He blinked up, his eyes burning as he pulled his legs up towards his chest. He turned his head to the side and flinched, when Dean snapped his fingers in front of Sam's face.  
  
"Look at me," the alpha demanded. "You don't get to get out of this that easy, boy. - You're tellin' me everything you know about them. Where their nest is. How many there are. And since when you've been with them. You get to tell me how they got to you and where you're from. I wanna know your name and theirs. Specially theirs."  
Sam swallowed, looking back at the older man as he sniffed, trying to blink away tears. But failed. Instead they were running down his flushed cheeks.  
"I only know of four. Three men, one woman," Sam said, his voice wet.  
"Bullshit," Dean snapped. "There have to be more. Aren't there?"  
  
"I don't KNOW. There was Henry. Michael. Rebecca. And Carlos. I don't know any other names. I don't know when they took me, or from where. I can't tell you where their nest is, or from which town they moved me here. I don't know how long I've been with them. I know, that I can't remember. I know my name is Sam, even when they didn't call me that," Sam told him desperately. "I ... I ..." He sobbed, squeezing his eyes shut as the constrictions of his muscles tore at his ribs. He sucked in a deep breath.  
  
"What the hell?!" came a gruff voice from the doorway, where a bearded older man with a blue ball-cap was standing. His eyes were wide and his expression shocked. "Dean?! What do you think you're doing?"  
"Questioning our vic, Bobby. That's what I'm doing." Dean stood up, shoving the chair backwards. "Besides ... He can't tell us anything useful anyway," he ground out, staring down at the omega  disparaging.  
Sam stared up at the man as he stood above him. So much hate and anger burning in his emerald-green eyes. Disgust written on his face without an attempt of hiding his emotions from the omega.  
"I'm sorry," Sam hiccuped. "So sorry. I don't know ... I don't know." he buried his face between his legs and drew in another shaky breath, drying his face on the comforter.  
Before Bobby could even get the idea to send him out of the room, Dean left anyway.  
  
On his way downstairs, Dean bumped into Pastor Jim who was already on his way upstairs, staring at Dean wide- eyed as he passed him.  
   
~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~  
   
Dean was in the kitchen, holding a mug of coffee in his hand and took sip after sip.  
  
Bobby was entering right then, muttering something under his breath, before he spoke out loud. "What the hell were you thinkin', boy? You got any idea what you did back there? Scaring the living shit outta that kid?" The old man was flat-out furious. Obviously. He huffed out a breath. "He's traumatized, Dean. - You dealt with shit like that all the time back in the day. And I can't remember you acting like such a dick before." Bobby muttered something. Again. He cast his look down shortly and then back back, nailing his younger friend with his gaze to the counter. "I know you've got quite some issues when it comes to omegas. But this? - I told you to wait for Jim. I told you he'd need to tell us something ... to ..." He sighed. And suddenly he didn't seem as pissed anymore. Rather lost. "You know that he's the vic here, right? He's the one who's fucked up six days from Sunday? 'cause that ain't 'bout you and ya issues."  
  
Dean glanced up at his friend. He knew he should feel sorry, but he didn't. Well maybe a little bit. But not entirely. "He doesn't know anything," he grumbled. "Pointless to ask him stuff."  
"Yeah well. Thanks to you, idjit, he seems pretty off now." Bobby sighed again and rubbed over his face. Then he shook his head. "You could've waited, you know?"  
Dean glanced up under his lashes and blinked. "There was a hidden room in the back of the club. Henry must've kept him there for quite some time. Wasn't much besides a bed in there ... and a table with a chair. Clothes. The Miller's farm is abandoned. They're dead since weeks. - Probably. No traces where they could've gone, or how many they were." He sighed, his lips formed into a tight line. "And mister-I'm-too-precious-for-this-world ain't no help either. Says he doesn't remember anything."  
  
Bobby shrugged. "Well. Ain't the first time, boy, huh? Maybe he'll remember." He paused. "But high likely he won't remember anything before the abduction. Before ... everything."  
"I don't care. - He's playin' the poor lill' guy who was in the fangs of a pack of vamps. There've been others like him," Dean's voice hitched in dismay. "I don't buy a single word of what he says."  
A beat of silence.  
"Because he's an omega?" Bobby asked quietly. "Do I have to remind you, that Mary was an omega too?" There was honest anger mirroring in his voice.  
"Bobby," Dean pressed out through gritted teeth.  
"No, son. We're gonna talk about this, Dean." Bobby blocked Dean's way by getting before him as he tried to leave. "You will listen." Dean opened his mouth to protest. "And you'll keep your mouth shut. That ain't no fun."  
  
Bobby put his hand on Dean's chest as he tried to walk past the old man again. "No." Bobby held his gaze sternly and pushed a bit to show that he meant it. "Your mother was an omega. You remember her? Of course you do. She was the nicest person you've known, right?"  
"You didn't even know her, Bobby. So-" He cast his look down as he got silenced by the older man with a glare.  
  
"No I don't. But your father told me about her. Plenty. There was nothing John rather talked about than you and your mom." The grizzled hunter's voice was soft, though demanding. "So I kind of know her. I also know, that she wouldn't have hurt a fly, Dean. AND she was an omega. So is the kid upstairs." He paused. "What'd you think if someone'd try to treat your mother the way you treat him?"  
Dean grumbled something.  
"What was that?"  
  
"I'd rip the other one's throat out. With my teeth," Dean murmured softly. "That's what I said."  
"He may be an omega. He may be traumatized. And he may not remember anything. He may have tried to flee. But he sure as hell didn't do it because he thinks he did something wrong - he was scared, Dean. This boy up there ..." Bobby sighed, gesturing towards the stairs, "He's like you and me. And I want you to treat him like you'd treat every other vic."  
The ex-hunter didn't look up, if anything he ducked his head further down in shame. Because he knew that Bobby was right. He knew. But he couldn't change how it felt. How HE felt.  
  
And that was that.  
"Maybe you manage to be nicer than to the others. Even if it's a lot to ask from you, okay?" Bobby asked.  
"When's Jim gonna fill us in?" He needed to change the subject right the fuck now.  
Bobby sighed and shook his head. "Guess as soon as he's back downstairs."  
   
~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~  
   
Sam pulled away from the hand attempting to reach for his shoulder. He pressed his face into his knees, hiccuping.  
"It's okay ..." Jim murmured. "Dean's just a bit ... unseasoned ... when it comes to talk to victims and witnesses. If they are ..." He sighed and took a deep breath. "He's wary when it comes to omegas. He doesn't mean it that way."  
  
Sam sniffed. His shoulders shook, as he looked up warily. "Why apologize?" He caught the beta's gaze. "WHY? You've got me. What are you gonna do now? Sell me? Give me to someone else? Are you going to ... to lock me down?" He sniffed, blinking red-rimmed eyes at the older man. "You're givin' me breakfast ... you've givin' me a bed ... That's mighty nice of you and your friends. But what do you want for it? What's the price I'm gonna pay for your hospitality? I can't tell you anything about the vampires – nothing you haven't seen on me already when you undressed me, cleaned me up and did whatever you were doing with me ... I'm not stupid, Mister." he took a deep breath. "When I'm not needed anymore you're gonna dump me. Or do other stuff."  
  
The Pastor frowned at him and found himself at a lack of words for a couple of long minutes.  
He cleared his throat.  
"You won't pay for anything. I don't know who you think we are, but we sure as hell aren't what you seem to believe." He looked aside for a moment, searching for words. "Did they ... take you when you were still a kid?" Jim asked calmly.  
  
Sam sniffed and stared at him. "Don't think so," he muttered. "I can't remember." He nestled the comforter in between his fingers absently. "I ... I think it's been a couple of months." he added softly. "Maybe a year."  
"That's a start. You've any parents or siblings we can call? They could pick you up. Get you home. You could pick up where you left off ..." Pastor Jim watched the younger man intently for any kind of positive emotions crossing his face. But there were none.  
"I don't know," Sam muttered and shook his head. "I can't remember."  
"Huh." Pastor Jim leaned back in the chair and pulled his lower lip over the upper one.  
There was silence again. Though not as uncomfortable as it had been before.  
Sam was thinking.  
  
"What do you remember?" he finally asked.  
Sam continued to think for a long time. Then he blinked up, pressing his lips together. "I remember white walls. Light blue sheets. A doctor ... I remember one of the male nurses. I think he was Henry's friend too. I remember not feeling right and that I had a headache. A real bad one ... And that my head is bandaged with gauze," he explained calmly. Somehow it didn't even feel like his own memories at all. They were just there. Floating through his mind sometimes. "I remember waking up in a bed and Henry sitting beside me." He choked back a sob.  
  
"And before that?"  
Sam shook his head. "Nothing."  
"Can I have a look at your head? See if I can find hints about what had happened?"  
First he shrugged. Though he felt curious too – something he couldn't deny. Even when these people may or may not hurt him.  
"Why?" Sam asked then.  
"Because I want you to help find your family. Maybe you were married to someone. Or have kids. Maybe you've family out there looking for you," The Pastor answered with a soft smile.  
  
Sam chewed his bottom-lip and frowned at that. "You'd let me go? Just like that?"  
Jim nodded surprised. "Of course we'd let you go. This is a free land, boy. You can make your own decisions." His smile widened a bit.  
"How can I be sure that this isn't another lie?" He licked over his split lower lip, his frown deepening while he stared at his fingers.  
"Because whatever happened to you ... it's not how it's supposed to be, kid. Trust me." The Pastor ran his fingers through his short ashen-white hair and leaned forward again.  
Sam nodded, trying to wrap his mind around the possibility that this man was telling the truth.  
"Can I?" the older man inched forward on his chair and pointed at Sam's head.  
Obviously uncomfortable – but still curious – he nodded, though wouldn't look at the man.  
The Pastor rose slowly and sat down on the edge of the bed.  
  
First Sam flinched away when a pair of creased hands reached for his head, but then dared himself to let it happen.  
Pastor Jim lifted the long bangs of dark hair and his eyes narrowed at a small scar that looked dangerously close to a puncture wound. His eyes widened when he found another one on the far corner where hair met forehead. He swore silently, not able to process that he found what he thought he'd find.  
Sam withdrew immediately and pulled his arms close to his body. "Sometimes I have the feeling that ... that I'm ..." He sighed. "They did something to make me forget, didn't they?"  
Jim's jaw was set, his eyes filled with anger and sadness.  
  
Of course – he as an ex-military-doc – knew what those scars were. At least he had an idea what that could mean. That and the fact that this man ... wasn't quite male at all. Usually THIS procedure wasn't used anymore. No one did things like that since ... well, since the late sixties.  
Lobotomy.  
One of the worst things ever.  
But the omega was about 30 years old and if it truly had been a year ago that this had happened ... well ... then someone had to justify this.  
These days no one would get a lobotomy because he wasn't ... well ... either female nor male – No matter if their mind were set at a particular gender or not – or even both ...  
Some hermaphrodites liked to switch in-between genders too.  
  
"Yeah," the Pastor muttered hoarsely. Still not quite able to believe what he was seeing – what he was thinking that could have possibly had happened to that man.  
For the omega's sake he put on a soft smile again. "You know why they did it?"  
Sam blinked up and shook his head. "It's all pretty blurry."  
  
The Pastor huffed out a breath. "You know what, kid?" His smile brightened a bit more. "I'll call Jody. Our sheriff in town. She'll find your people and call them. Tell them that you're with us and safe, that you've been found."  
The omega bit the insides of his lip and opened his mouth to say something, but shut it again. "What ..." He cleared his throat. "What if THEY gave me to them? I don't want back if they did that ..."  
The Pastor frowned at that. How could he possibly think ... He sighed. "We'll wait and see, okay?"  
  
Sam nodded thoughtfully. "The ... the other man ... the alpha ... he wanted to know about the vampires. He ... he thinks I know something. But I don't. I don't I really don't. I don't know where they are, or how many. I only saw five of them – including Henry."  
He swallowed thickly.  
Jim nodded. "Don't you worry. Dean's an ex-hunter. Me? I'm a hunter too ... but this here? That's about you gettin' back home, knowing you’re safe. That's what we do. So don't you worry about him or anyone else." He winked at him as he stood up. "No one's gonna harm you."  
Sam nodded again – trying to believe real hard what the man was telling him.  
  
"If you like you can come downstairs later?" he suggested. "There's the bathroom." Jim gestured towards the door beside which he had been coming through. "Towels and clothes are in there too ... If you're not coming downstairs, me or Bobby are gonna check on you later, 'kay?"  
"'kay." Sam answered.  
  
He so hoped that this one was telling the truth ... he prayed that he did. After all ... after all those things that had happened. After all the things Henry had promised and never held ... It was hard to believe that those people really wanted to help him.  
   
.... to be continued


	4. The Window

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not responding to your comments! I hope you guys forgive me!  
> I want to thank all of you for your support! :D

Fields Of Jasmine  
Chapter 4 ~ The Window

Jim had come downstairs a couple of minutes ago, not looking left or right. He went into the kitchen. He poured himself some coffee into a mug from the cupboard, added sugar and milk, and went into the living room where he sat down heavily onto the couch.  
  
Bobby and Dean followed him, staring at their friend in a mixture of curiousity and being plain shocked about the man's behaviour. He kinda looked like he had seen a ghost. Well, more like a unicorn since Pastor Murphy had – for sure – seen a buttload of ghosts in his life. A ghost wouldn't do that to a hunter.  
Though, the two of them didn't say anything. They just stared at their friend with risen eyebrows and quizzical gazes.  
  
Jim took a sip of his coffee and closed his eyes for a moment.  
There was a knock on the door and Bobby went to check on it. He led Sheriff Mills into the living room and cleared his throat.  
  
Jody was carrying two plastic bags and placed them on the coffee table, before she picked up on the uncomfortable silence. She gazed at Bobby, who gazed at Dean, who gazed at Jim.  
Jim didn't look at anyone. He only stared at the cold ashes in the fireplace and took another sip of coffee, before he seemed to tear himself out of his thoughts. He cleared his throat and looked up.  
  
Jody cocked an eyebrow at the Pastor and pointed at the bags. Then she looked at the other two.  
"Brought lunch," she said and bowed over the bags, getting one of the chinese take-out menus out. She picked a plastic fork too and sat down in the recliner, opening it up. The sheriff sniffed curiously at the ingredients before she took a tentative fork full of a rice-vegetable-meat-mixture.  
  
"So ..." She eyed the pastor for a moment, while she was still chewing. "How's he doing? Did he talk?"  
Dean huffed out a breath and opened his mouth to say something, but Bobby glared at him warningly.  
"We were waitin' for you ..." Bobby explained, "Jim found some interesting things about ..." He thought for a moment, obviously searchng for the right words. "... about the omega."  
  
Jim put the mug aside and rubbed over his face. He then trained his attention at the bags with food and pulled one of them out, including a plastic fork. The Pastor leaned back and popped the small luciously smelling paper-bag open. Then he buried the fork inside.  
  
"You guys might wanna sit down," he murmured, not quite meeting their gazes.  
Curiously, Bobby and Dean obeyed instantly and found themselves somewhere to sit down.  
Jim's gaze swept through the room, checking if everyone was sitting. Then he cleared his throat.  
"His name is Sam - At least ... he said he thinks so. He doesn't remember a lot though. He can't tell where and when they took him and he doesn't know how long he stayed with the vamps," he started, then stopped.  
Dean swallowed down a huff. Bobby was too close. The old man could smack him over the head from where he was sitting.  
  
"He ... he won't remember either." The Pastor's voice grew thin. "He says he can remember a white room. Nurses."  
  
"The room in which Henry kept him wasn't white," Dean threw in curiously. "There were wooden panels."  
Jim rose his hand, showing the Winchester that he should let conintue him. "I think he was in a hospital. There are these scars ..." He had to clear his throat again. "Scars which let on, that Sam got a Lobotomy ..."  
Everyone's mouths fell open.  
  
"A WHAT?" Jody asked in disbelief. "You sure?"  
Jim shrugged. "It looks like it and ... since I had to discover some other things ... I think it's possible. Though, I've to say that ... that something like that ... with something like HIM ... has been done quite some time back. In the sixties. So ..."  
  
Dean sighed annoyed. "Call it by the name, Jim. Please?"  
Of course Dean Winchester wasn't always that impatient. Except when he was.  
  
Jim looked up at him and nodded. "Back in the sixties, hermaphrodites who wouldn't decide which gender they'd wanted to be got a Lobotomy – and not that thing you see on TV, you know? Some doctor from Chicago found a way with which the patients wouldn't go completely insane. At least not as much of them as before. True, they had seizures after their surgery, but that wasn't quite the problem back then. Those people got CURED. Anyway. Ususally I'd say it's nonsense. But as we see ... it's not. The scars aren't that old. Maybe a year, up or down two months. I can't tell for sure." Jim cleared his throat. "I didn't notice at first, even if I should have. His scent is unique in a special way. May because he ain't either male nor female." He had to clear his throat again. "That is ... He's definitely got more of male than female genes, that's for sure. So ... maybe his family brought him to some doctor. There are still people out there that think that it is not okay to be ... the way he is. Actually he should've went into surgery right after the lobotomy. But as far as I can tell, he didn't. He is definitely hermaphrodite. So I think that those vamps got him out of there before they could put him through even more shit."  
  
Dean huffed out a breath and rolled his eyes. "Why would they do such a thing?" He shook his head. "Why cut off a man's ... JUNK, dammit?"  
Jim shrugged. "It was that way back then. Usually they would've done it as long as the kids were small and such ... without lobotomy of course ... Though, it's a fatal thing to do."  
  
Bobby rose. "If he really got brought there to get to ... you know ... turned ... Oh, shit. I don't know either." He murmured some gruff curses. "There are still people out there who make omegas and betas do that? What the hell?"  
  
Jim sighed.  
  
Jody shook her head, eying the food in her hand warily and put it aside. "Okay, so. Means I'm going to look up cases from omegas who vanished from a private clinic, since a usual hospital wouldn't dare to do something like that anymore. I'm gonna look into cases where omegas had been reported as missed during the last three years and see if I can find something. I'll have Jo call Agent Morgan. He's a Fed. Maybe he'll be capable of finding out some more about private clinics and their shady businesses," she sighed. "I'll may get the FBI involved too. That's quite a bit too big for a small-town's police department like ours. Specially when he got abducted in another state, or when this clinic is somewhere outside of South Dakota." She muttered something to herself. Then she took her paper-bag with food and sat down beside Jim on the couch. "What about the vampires?"  
  
"Gone. God knows where," Bobby answered thoughtfully. "I'll call Garth later on, let him spread the word about a nest of vamps."  
She shook her head and her forehead creased in a way that meant that she wasn't quite okay with what was going on and that this case already pissed her off.  
  
Dean bit the insides of his lips. He may not show it to the outside world, but he – SOMEHOW – felt sorry for the guy upstairs. He's been through a buttload of shit ... and he had given him some more for not remembering.  
He had truly become a dick over the years.  
  
Jim rubbed over his face. "He's pretty upset though." He didn't look directly at Dean, but grazed him with a ruefull look. "I can't tell for sure for why they kept him, or why they took him ... but I'm sure it wasn't just for shits and giggles." Jim stabbed his fork into the rice-mixture. "Other than that he's gonna heal up real nice I guess. Nothing fatal ... A bunch of bruises and lacerations. A superficial stab wound in his side. His feet are torn up a bit though. Gonna hurt to walk for a while."  
  
Jody leaned back. She looked at least as tired as Dean and Bobby did. "I guess I can leave him with you guys? - At least until I know more?"  
Bobby gave her a nod. "Of course. Not a problem."  
  
Dean didn't even listen. He stared at the wooden floor, his gaze directed at nothing in particular as the wheels in his mind were turning furiously.  
  
"I'll ask Missouri if she'd like to stop by. Maybe he needs someone to talk to," Jody said after a long while. Still she hadn't touched her food again. She just stared at it. The woman stole a glance at Dean. "Someone who's not male and who's a bit more sensitive."  
  
One thing was for sure: As soon as the Feds were involved, the clinic which had attempted to turn the omega either into male or female without his consent (the Lobotomy was proof enough for it, which high likely hadn't been in consent either) would pay a high price for offering services like that. On top of that, whoever had taken the omega there and had signed his papers to do that ridiculously insane kind of surgery, would definitely end up in prision.  
  
Oh, they did not know how wrong they were with their assumptions.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

A full bladder forced Sam out of bed and into the bathroom. First he felt dizzy and his vision was blurry, but after the first couple of steps the sensation subsided and ebbed away into nausea.  
His bandaged feet stung like crazy with every step he took, the lacerations on his soles burning when the skin stretched tightly and when he put weight onto them.  
  
Sam searched the insides of the bathroom for the light-switch, since the room had no windows to spare any light. He didn't look right or left when he went straight for the toilet. Just when he sat down, he took in the small bathroom, the shower stall. There was a stack of fresh clothes beside the sink on a narrow cupboard and a stack of towels and a washcloth.  
  
Sam took in the creme-colored tiles and brownish ones on the floor.  
It actually looked pretty nice. Nicer than the one Henry had.  
He held his side as the muscles in his stomach relaxed to empty his full bladder and he sighed a breath of relief. When he was done, he went to the sink and examined the clothes curiously. They weren't new ones, but they were okay. No holes, no stains - Well, besides the boxers. They were definitely new ones.  
  
His gaze flickered up into the mirror and caught on a pair of dull hazel-eyes, though vividly sparkling in the dim light. Sam stared at himself in the mirror, his attention drawn to the scar on his face. His hand moved up unconciously and traced the line of healed skin over his face, the corners of his mouth wandering downwards in the process.  
  
Unable to bear to look at himself any longer, he cast his eyes aside which got caught on the shower stall.  
Sam sniffed himself and the corners of his lips turned downwards some more. He stunk.  
So shower it was.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Jody was gone by the time the others unpacked their boxes and started to eat the cold chinese food slowly.  
Dean had found a more comfortable place beside Jim on the couch and was more or less turning the food over in the small bag.  
"You really think that's what they wanted to do?" Dean asked warily and blinked up at Bobby in the recliner. "Castrate him? Make him ... normal?" Though, Dean doubted that someone could make someone CHANGE through a surgery. "Why would a bunch of vamps take someone like him and KEEP him?"  
  
It just didn't fit.  
"I don't know, kid. But we'll find out," the gruff hunter answered.  
"There's something wrong about this ..." Dean could tell. Something was nagging at him. "It just stinks." Dean frowned and shook his head.  
  
"I guess the only one who could tell's Sam himself." Jim pursed his lips. "If he'd remember."  
"You think, that after a Lobotomy he'll be able to remember?" the ex-hunter asked.  
Jim shrugged and shook his head. "Nah. Don't think so. Maybe bits and pieces but surely not everything."  
They finished their take out meals. While Dean headed into the garage to open her up, Bobby stayed in the house, not wanting to leave the omega alone.  
  
Jim decided to go out and burn the vampire's corpse since they hadn't done that yet. At least the Pastor had thought so. Though, when he found the loadbed of Bobby's Pick Up empty, he headed back inside, a bit confused.  
He found his old friend in the kitchen, dumping the empty boxes in the trash.  
"You ... you didn't burn the vamp, did you?" he asked curiously.  
  
Bobby's eyebrows arched up at the question and he turned around. He took in the white-haired man's face, which looked a bit pleadingly as if he wanted to hear that he did. The grizzled hunter shook his head.  
"Nope. When on god's earth should I've done that, Jim?" he asked, realization dawning on him and showing on his face.  
  
The Pastor sighed and swallowed, growing a bit pale.  
"What is it?" the gruff man asked, dropped the dish towel in the sink and took a step towards his old friend.  
"Gone. The body's gone," he breathed, his face blank.  
  
"Can't be." Bobby's forehead creased in terror. Had they managed to overlook something? He knew he'd been still there when he left. "You sure?"  
"Except you put him somewhere else than the bed of the truck. Tell me you stored the body somewhere else ..." It was a hidden plea behind his words.  
"I didn't." Bobby swallowed thickly.  
  
Robert Singer gathered his jacket and a scarf, got dressed and headed outside, flanked by the Pastor. Both men carrying machetes as they went deep into the junk yard.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~  
   
They didn't find anything. Not even after a week.  
The vampire nest had just vanished. As if swallowed by hell itself. No tracks. No traces. No nothing.  
Henry Savanger's corpse was gone. Only hell knew how and who had taken it ... and for what purposes. Who'd steal a dead man's body? A vampire's dead body?  
  
It just didn't make any sense. None of it.  
Dean Winchester was at a loss of ideas – which didn't happen very often.  
It had started a couple of days ago, when he came home after his work at the garage, showered and dressed in more comfortable clothes, that he sat on the couch by the big window of his living room, facing towards a huge flat-screen TV installed on the opposite side of the room on the wall.  
  
After he had been zapping through the channels without hope of finding a half-way decent movie or series, he had turned it off and half-laid, half-sat on the couch, staring out of the window. It had been night and the only thing that caught his attention was the window on the first floor, where a figure sat behind it.  
Of course he had known who it was. Sam, the omega.  
  
The distance between the buildings wasn't close enough to make out details about faces though – but he had figured it was him. The outlines of that shaggy mop of hair had been proof enough to the ex hunter.  
Dean had stared up there. He had got the feeling as if the omega was staring back down at him too. At least it felt like he'd been watched. Usually something like that would've challenged his hunter-senses and was supposed to make him feel uneasy. But it didn't. If something, it felt rather comfortable.  
  
Soon it became a ritual.  
  
Sitting there by the window and staring out into the night for hours. Watching the motionless figure by the window.  
Tonight though, it was different. Somehow it felt different.  
The whole day, ever since opening his eyes in the morning, Dean had longed for the very moment he'd come home from the garage and settle back down on the couch.  
  
Instead of even thinking about turning on the TV tonight, Dean sat down on the couch and pulled a blanket over his feet and lap, massaging his aching thigh and calf through the thin whoolen fabric and sweatpants while he stared out of the window and up to the first floor of Bobby's house.  
  
Since the omega was here, Bobby only went to the garage in the mornings and back home about noon. So, Dean had a whole lot of more work to do than before. Surprisingly it didn't bother him that much.  
At least he didn't need to watch over Sam ... or whatever Bobby was doing if he wasn't at the garage with him.  
They didn't even talk about Sam – except on their way there in the mornings. Bobby gave him short recounts about how the omega was doing.  
  
Dean hadn't entered his older friend's house a single time since they had first brought Sam there. Though, something deep down inside of him started to feel as if he should go and check on the man himself.  
  
Then again ... Jody'd stop by Saturday morning (what was tomorrow anyway) and would fill them in on the informations she was able to gather about the man. An opportunity, Dean felt kind of excited about, since he couldn't think about any other excuse to come over without it seeming suspicious.  
So he sat there on the couch and stared up at the second window from the right, waiting for the lights to go on. Eventually they did, and Sam took his place by the window, facing it.  
  
Dean sighed and leaned back a bit, thinking about nothing in particular as the tension of his aching muscles eased away slowly. He tilted his head to the side as he watched the omega get comfortable on the other side of the window and he imagined how Sam'd arrange a blanket over his lap, throw one leg over the other and snuggle into the recliner which Dean knew had been stored in the room eons ago.  
Though. Tonight was different.  
  
The omega didn't seem as motionless as usual. He shifted more often, changing his position in the seat. Dean's forehead furrowed at that curiously. Somehow the omega's agitation agitated him too and he found himself moving every now and then.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~  
   
Sam sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. He couldn't help but shift again, trying to get more comfortable in the dark-brown recliner he sat in. He pulled the brown fluffy blanket higher up his waist as he shuddered.  
Usually he didn't feel cold at all. If anything he thought of himself like a freaking furnace. Though the urge to get in bed and stretch out tonight, he had decided otherwise.  
  
The alpha was surely waiting for him already, since he was plenty late for their unconventional staring-session. He'd been busy with helping Bobby with the dishes and dinner, after Jim removed the stitches from his already healed wound in his side.  
  
It wasn't a lot those betas let him do at all. They rather prefered to see him on the couch and in front of the TV as it seemed. Those men didn't pry, but there was always one of them there. The Pastor in the morning, and Bobby – a gruff but actually nice guy – in the afternoons.  
  
He didn't see the alpha at all, except for their staring-sessions at night.  
Sam asked himself if that was a thing. Why he needed to sit there in the recliner while he felt a bit crappy and as if he was going to become sick. It wasn't like this man meant anything to him. At least he didn't yet.  
  
Other than being a dick and calling him a freak and not useful, nothing had happened.  
Sam felt a bit stupid about it when he thought about the why's. It wasn't as if he owed the alpha anything. Then again ... This man was an ALPHA.  
  
Another sigh fell from the omega's lips and wiggled again and leaned back a bit, training his gaze at the big window of the small cabin. He couldn't make out the man's features, but he surely knew that this was the alpha. Call it a sixth sense maybe.  
  
Sam thought. The muscles in his jaw worked and his right hand brushed absently up and down over the soft fabric of the blanket of his thigh.  
  
His fingers curled into a loose fist, as he lifted his hand, so that it had to be visible from the other window. Sam couldn't tell why he did it. Why he extended his fingers again and moved his hand in a waving sign. Maybe he needed proof that the alpha was watching him, as he was watching the alpha. Maybe he needed to know that this wasn't just his imagination.  
  
So he waved. Slowly. Just a single wink and then his hand was back in his lap while his eyes stayed at the cabin's window.  
It took some agonizing long seconds, but eventually there appeared a hand in the window which waved back at him. Only once, before it disappeared again.  
Sam couldn't help the upwards-pull of the corners of his lips as he saw the small gesture from the distance.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

They sat at their windows long past midnight.  
  
Both of them weren't rested at all. First off Dean, because – miraculously – kind of bothered his subconcsious mind that if Jody had found the omega's family, that Sam would leave the salvage. And with him the staring-sessions and the possibility for Dean to apologize to him for being such a dick. And the opportunity of getting to know the taller man a bit better than just at the worst of their sets of minds.  
  
Second off, because Bobby had told Sam that Jody'd come by the next morning to tell them what she found out. So Sam was somehow relieved that the female beta had obviously found SOMETHING. But he also felt sad about what that something could possibly be. After all, the chances were high that his family had given him away because of what he actually was. A freak.  
  
And maybe even because – just a little bit – he'd kind of miss his nightly sessions at the window.  
Anyhow. That was how it actually was. He couldn't stay with these people for the rest of his life, no matter how nice they were.  
  
Sam also thought, that he should be more curious about them and not believe everything they told him. But then again ... What did he have to lose? It wasn't like he remembered anything before Henry. Somehow he didn't really care either. And that felt weird. Because he had the feeling that he was supposed to care about what happened to him.  
  
Or maybe it was because he thought it couldn't get any worse after the vampires. At least not at all. He had watched a whole lot of TV and had listened to the radio. Everything they were saying made sense and it matched with the things those people had told him.  
  
Maybe his subconcsious mind knew already what was right and what was wrong and that was why he wasn't as afraid of those people as he should've been.  
  
Well. Here he was anyway. Standing in front of the mirror in the bathroom he curently called his own. Sam wetted his hands and ran them through his hair to smooth it back and behind his ears, taking in his face. The scar. The sharpness of his jaw and cheekbones and the way his bony fingers furled through his hair.  
  
Sam's head snapped towards the door of the open bathroom as he heard the front-door open and close again and two voices, then three. None of them actually female, so he figured that it had to be the alpha who just came in.  
  
He took a deep breath to steady his raw nerves. It was true. Sam was anxious, even when he couldn't tell why exactly. He sucked in another deep breath. He couldn't deny that it was something to do with strangers and that there'd be more than just two people uncomfortably close to him. Even when it was about a yard or even more.  
  
Sam suddenly felt a rising panic deep down in his stomach.  
He hated the feeling of being vulnerable and not able to control the upcoming situation he'd find himself in in only a couple of minutes.  
  
Sam couldn't remember when he last was in the company of more than just one person at a time. Hell, he didn't know if he had been a lone wolf or a party-guy, or if he prefered the usual social contacts. Not that he had any clue what exactly normal social contacts were.  
He hurried up to shave and put on his jeans, when he heard the front door again. This time it had to be the sheriff. The voice echoing up the stairs and down the corridor outside of the room he currently occupied was definitely female.  
  
Sam felt his knees wobbling under his weight as he checked himself in the mirror again before he left the bathroom and his bedroom, trying to not think too much about what was to come. So he made his way down the corridor and over the stairs into the hall.  
  
Jim had explained everything to him. Step by step. He had let Sam choose the place and he had promised the young man, that no one would come too close to him.  
  
Sam hoped it was true. What they didn't talk about was, that all of them would be already in the living room.  
Which felt like a giant problem to Sam all of a sudden. He froze in the doorway as his look caught Bobby, Jim and the alpha – Dean – by the grizzled hunter's desk and Jody with two other uniformed people on the couch. Neither did the recliner look as the perfect place for him to sit, not mattering that he had chosen the chair before.  
His heart jackhammered in his chest and his breaths turned into short little puffs through his nose.  
All eyes were on him.  
  
Sam would love to turn around and RUN. Get back into the room and onto the bed. But he knew he couldn't.  
This was important.  
"Hey, Sam," Sheriff Mills greeted him nicely and smiled.  
Sam gave her a nod. He couldn't help but look aside and then down, bangs of chestnut-brown hair falling into his face, hiding it from the others view.  
Dean cleared his throat gingerly and sighed.  
  
Sam flinched, chewing his lower lip, as his hands found themselves wrapped behind his back to hide their shaking.  
  
The sharp tang of fear crawled up the alpha's nostrils and his nose scrunched up instantly. Dean pushed away from the table and took off slowly towards the omega who seemed to shrink into himself each passing second.  
Bobby lunged for his shoulder and gripped him hard, attempting to hold him back. But Dean twisted out of his grasp and gave him a look.  
  
Bobby gave him a look back, warning him without words to not do something he'd regret later on.  
Dean sauntered over towards Sam and stopped in front of him, taking in the omega's intense scent.  
"Where do you wanna sit?" Dean asked quietly, his voice low and soft – empathetic.  
  
Sam inhaled a deep breath of old wood and oil and metal lingering at its edges. He bit his lower lip harder, feeling the man before him close. So close. He kept staring at his own shoes for a while. Then a hand appeared in his line of vision. A hand, which was – not very surprisingly – attached to an arm. A bicep. A strong looking chest ...  
Sam's eyes wandered upwards to a pair of emerald-green bright eyes, pouty soft looking lips and freckles. A face covered in freckles, specially around the man's nose and all over his cheeks.  
  
"C'mon," Dean whispered. "Wanna sit down?"  
Their gazes locked over the short distance and Sam exhaled a breath he didn't know he was holding. He blinked at the shorter man.  
Sam untangled his fingers and ever so slowly guided it into the offered one before him – never looking away from Dean's eyes while he did so.  
The alpha smiled softly at him.  
  
Sam didn't smile. He couldn't. All he was capable of were his instincts, since his mind was a turmoil of thoughts and ideas and PANIC. He just wanted to get this over with and go back to the room they provided for him ... or somewhere else. Whatever the sheriff'd tell him would be okay. He'd take it. No matter what. Main Point was he'd get out of there and away from all these people again.  
  
Dean wrapped his fingers around Sam's hand and tugged him towards the recliner. Sam let himself be led there. His chest heaved heavily, breathing in the mixture of six different scents of betas and alphas in the same room. In the same room.  
Dean pushed him gently into the recliner and let go of those thin fingers before he walked back to where he had been standing before, not wanting to mess up the Pastor's plan of who had to stand or sit. After all, Jim had explained that Sam was pretty uncomfotable in the company of people he didn't know at least a bit.  
  
So yeah. Dean could imagine that. It wasn't like he was that much of a dick ... and after those nights of staring at each other over a rather wide distance ... He felt somehow connected to the omega.  
Still. Sam was an omega after all. Though maybe deserved a table-spoon of pity and even a bit of gentleness.  
"So," Jody spoke up, facing the younger man as she sat down on the coffee table about two yards away from the the recliner. "She held a folder in her lap. "I found some interesting things, Sam." Her expression was unreadable. "First off. I found you. I did find your parents too."  
  
Sam looked up, meeting her gace as a wave of exitement, relief and worry washed over him. There was a but at the end of her sentence.  
She sighed heavily. "You don't have any living siblings, Sam. Your parents died fifteen years ago in a house fire. So did Adam. Your younger brother." Jody paused, giving Sam time to digest.  
  
The omega didn't know if he should feel sad or sorry. Actually he didn't know those people even if they had been his family. What hit him hard though was the fact that it seemed as if he was on his own. Completely on his own.  
"For ... for the reasons you forgot about your past." She looked up briefly, her features growing grim. Everyone in the room straightened up slightly, straining their ears so not to miss out on something important. "You commited yourself into a psychiatric facility. Shutter's Home in Lawrence, Kansas. That was about one and a half years ago." She flipped the folder open and pulled out a file, which she scattered open. She turned the file, so that Sam could see it and handed it to him.  
  
The omega took it with shaky hands and took in the document before him. It read: Samuel Tristan Harvelle, May 2., 1983. Below, there was an agreement between him and the facility. His signature.  
Sam swallowed thickly. His breath shuddered.  
"Why'd I do that?" the omega's voice was thin and shaky.  
She motioned him to skip further.  
He did.  
  
Again, he found a document with his name, date of birth and an agreement. For a Lobotomy. Sam's forehead creased. The document was dated with November 17th, 2010 and his signature.  
He huffed out a breath in disbelieve. "I really did this?" he asked, his voice on the brink of breaking. "I ... TOLD them to do this to me?"  
Jody nodded.  
Everyone in the room seemed to hold their breaths.  
  
"This is a copy of the original file about your case," she spoke softly. "I got the file checked from a specialist. It's not faked. For the reasons ..." She cleared her throat and looked into the round meaningfully. "For the reasons you let them do that. It's written in there, very specifically. I don't think we need to talk about this with so many people around." The sheriff gave him a warm smile.  
There was a long silence. All looks on the omega in the recliner, who held the file like he was holding onto a lifeline. His lifeline.  
"Okay," he breathed.  
  
Jody nodded. "Okay," she repeated, her smile strained. "So for the other things ... There's ... There ARE possibilities for you, since you can't stay here."  
  
Sam couldn't stop a lump forming in his throat, nor could he stop the tears. Or anything else right now.  
He had thought there'd be at least a single member of his family who'd take him in for a couple of weeks or something. But now? Now he had nothing. NOTHING. There was nothing he'd be able to hold onto. It felt like the ground underneath his feet was crumbling.  
  
Sam's face was pale. The dark circles under his eyes standing out even more now.  
"Look - It's not the end, son," Bobby spoke up. "The state's gonna provide an apartment for you. They're gonna make sure that you're safe. That you'll get what you need."  
  
Sam didn't look up. Unable to meet anyone's eyes. So he just nodded, tears falling onto the file in his hands.  
Something inside Dean's gut twisted painfully at the sight before him. The scent and feelings which radiated from the omega. The despair and fear of the uncertain future he had. Without family. Without memories.  
  
Damn, since when did he feel that crappy because of someone else's loss? He wasn't supposed to pity others. This was his job. He'd seen this all so many times – at least similiar stuff. It wasn't any different. But it was.  
  
"You'll get a counselor. Someone who'll help you find your way, Sam." Jody tried to sooth him. Though she knew that this was just partly true. Counselors were a rare thing and hardly paid enough for their working schedule. These people would stop by once or twice a week, check if the omega had enough food ... Maybe talk a bit before they'd take off towards their next client.  
It wasn't all cupcakes and rosebushes.  
  
Dean swallowed, the muscles in his jaw and neck working furiously.  
Jody looked at Bobby. "I'll phone them this afternoon. Maybe they'll have a place for him by Friday next week."  
Bobby nodded. "Of course. We're not in a hurry." The older man didn't seem very fond of the idea to practically throw the omega out too. Shoving him into an apartment, where twenty or even more others were living. Sam'd have to deal with whole new impressions. Impressions he couldn't quite understand, nor handle at the moment. And he knew that.  
  
But he couldn't keep the man at the salvage either. Jim had to go back home at some point and he couldn't stay at the house like he had done so far. Dean'd chop his head off soon, besides they were already behind with the cars and things. He needed every hand at the garage.  
  
"Missoury was already here?" Jody asked.  
Bobby shook his head. "nope. 'S helpin' out someone who knows someone. Besides, it's quite a journey from Kansas to here. She'll come over next week. Tuesday or Wednesday she said."  
The sheriff nodded. "Good. I'll see what I can do about a counselor for you," now she talked to Sam, who hardly paid her any attention.  
The omega just stared at the shut file in his hands. "Can I go now?" he asked, his voice beaten and shaky. He didn't look up though.  
  
"Sure thing, Sam." Jody leaned back a bit as if to give the man more space.  
Without looking up or saying goodbye, he left and all that was heard of him where heavy footfalls on thick wood as he made his way up the stairs.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

That night, Sam didn't sit at the window.  
That night, Dean waited for him without avail and fell asleep on the couch until the late morning-sun woke him the next day.  
  
Days passed and the ex-hunter was about to give up his pathetic attempts to get in contact with the omega like the nights before. Since his pride and other internal wars won atop of his mind telling him to go over to Bobby's and check on the younger man.  
  
Until Tuesday.  
Dean kept telling himself that it was no use. That there wasn't a single thing he could do about the fact that Sam would be leaving soon and that he thought it was better that way. After all the man was an omega and Dean was supposed to at least dislike him.  
  
But he actually did. It kind of amazed him, how sane Sam T. Harvelle had stayed despite whatever those vamps had did to him.  
Something was telling him, that it wasn't a wise decision to let the man move out just yet. After all, there was still the vanished vampire-nest and the missing corpse of Henry Savanger. Something about this jigsaw just didn't seem to fit. Something kept nagging at the ex-hunter's mind about it.  
  
When Dean lurked out of the window – still in thoughts and a sleepless night - on a rather sunny tuesday morning, he saw the outlines of a figure in Sam's window.  
Sam.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Sam sighed, looking from his place in the recliner by the window over to the bed, on which the file's pages were scattered all over. He'd read it. All of it. He'd tried to remember. WHY he'd do something like that to himself.  
  
Well, he'd gotten his answers. He had been insane. He had hallucinations with massive headaches and migraines before and in the afterglow. So it was written in the doctor's report on the day of his admission. Since they hadn't found any physical cause, they had suggested a couple of drugs he could try out for starters and if that wouldn't work there'd be the possibility of a surgery.  
  
Sam had signed that.  
Maybe he had known back then that he wouldn't believe it afterwards ... So, at least, there was his signature.  
Thinking about signatures. He wasn't stupid. He'd scribbled half a dozen sheets of papers full with his name. Those matched the ones in the files perfectly.  
In his defense, it hadn't been a lobotomy. Sure they had performed a surgical procedure, but not quite the same as a lobotomy was nonetheless.  
Sam started to think that he really had those hallucinations. He could imagine, that he'd became so desperate to stop them, that he truly agreed to do this.  
Well – that at least – took a lot to digest.  
  
He'd been feeling sick the past couple of days, though just in the mornings. Today hadn't been any different, but he needed to see if the alpha'd be there – again. So he went after another food-less dinner into his room and sat down in the recliner, pulled the blanket up over his legs and lap and leaned back, sinking into the soft leather.  
  
Sam rubbed his side absently as his gaze got caught on the window of the small cabin. He knew that Dean wouldn't be there in the mornings and during the days. But he surely'd come back tonight. He hoped he would.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Dean's lips tugged upwards at the sight. He rose his hand and made a maving motion. The figure up there waved back at him. The smile on the ex-hunter's lips widened a bit at that. Though, he didn't have a lot of time to waste. He was late after all.  
  
Sam stayed in the recliner for the whole day. Dozing in and out and only getting up to drink or visit the bathroom. Alone the thought that he had to leave the safe room and move into an apartment made his stomach churn in protest.  
Those complexes – he knew it, since he googled it – were filled with people. Too many people. And YES, he had googled it. Obviously he had quite a talent for computers and laptops. Though, his file told him that he hadn't held a regular job so far.  
  
That surprised him. After all he was 27 years old, turning 28 in a couple of months. Obviously he had started to study law, but dropped out of Stanford after six months.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Bobby and Dean took the car to the garage, despite the fact that it wasn't more than five-hundred yards across the scrap yard, but the harsh cold wind and coldness made it close to unbearable to walk there. Besides, Dean's leg was giving him trouble even when he'd taken a double dose of Vicodin already.  
  
The bigger part of the morning went down without a whole lot of talk, dominated by a strained silence. It was about noon, when they called in a break and settled down inside Bobby's small office to sip a beer and have their lunch.  
Though, neither of them seemed hungry.  
  
"You know," Dean spoke up. "Isn't it weird that the nest just vanished? ... not to mention Savanger's corpse?" He glanced up at his friend. "I mean ... maybe it's not a good idea to let the omega go just yet."  
Bobby huffed out a breath. "Dean."  
Then there was a pause.  
  
"I'm not comfortable with it either. But Sam's ... he's traumatized. He needs someone to look after him and I sure as hell am not capable to cover that. He needs someone who understands him and who he can talk with." Not even Bobby seemed to believe his own words.  
"Once a week? By a counselor who's got another thirty of them to check on all over the town? - Maybe not even here in Sioux Falls?" Dean said. "You sure that's a good idea?"  
  
"Dean ... I didn’t say that I wouldn't want to. But ... it's a great responsibility, kid. If I'd mess this up, I'd mess Sam up. Jim's leaving tomorrow too ..." He paused, taking in Dean's appearance closely. His younger friend definitely seemed troubled. "And you won't – CAN'T – help me with this. He'll be among other people and maybe that's good for him. He'll NEED to get out and get food for himself and such. He needs to relearn those things."  
  
The older man's words sounded reasonable. "Yeah, sure. You're right." ... He was so fucking not right.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

The upcoming weekend, Dean came over to Bobby for breakfast. For lunch. And for dinner. On Saturday. And on Sunday.  
Feeling the omega close to him. Being able to smell him ...  
He'd never admit it to anyone or himself. But it smelled like heaven. Dean even tried to talk to Sam, but the omega seemed to hardly register him at all – at least he didn't look at the ex-hunter even when he answered simple questions.  
  
Bobby stole curious glances at his younger friend every now and then, what Dean thought was like waiting for him to slip up or something. But he didn't. Simply because he rarely thought of the man as "the oemga" anymore. He thought about him as Sam. As a person. Which he hadn't done in a while when it came to omegas. Hell, he hadn't even tried to remember their names before.  
  
But this here? With this one? It was different. It FELT different. Somehow he was starting to think that something was off about it though. Sam didn't talk a lot and kept his responses short and to the point.  
He couldn't blame him for that either.  
  
So here he found himself, sitting on the couch, watching Sam in the recliner closely, while he watched TV. While he tried to pry his gaze away from him every now and then, he thought about possibilities to keep the man on the salvage.  
He thought of how chances were if he'd let him live in his cabin, when it wasn't quite possible for Bobby to take him in. He also started to plan on how to split the bedroom into two bedrooms, so that they had all their own one. So Dean wouldn't get too close to Sam – so not to pry or something. After all he was an alpha.  
God knew what Sam would think of him, when he'd offer to stay.  
Yes, Dean Winchester knew how ridiculous his thoughts were, right?  
  
Anyway.  
Th ex-hunter sighed contently, as he continued watching the omega. Well, until a hand brushed over his shoulder and he looked up to meet a bearded hunter standing there. Right beside him. Heavy hand on Dean's shoulder.  
His look said as much as c'mon, boy, we need to talk.  
  
Dean gave his older friend a curious look and a short nod. Neither of them noticed Sam shift in the comforter and glance over his shoulder, watching Dean leave with the older man.  
Inside the kitchen, Dean stopped and turned around to face his friend.  
"Yeah? What is it?" he asked as casual as ever. Though he knew exactly what the old man was high likely bothering.  
  
"Dean." Bobby rubbed over his forehead and pinched the bridge of his nose. "What are you trying to do?"  
He pulled his head back and made a face, as if Bobby was about to talk him up about bullshit. About a forbidden girl he met secretly. About the weed under his mattress (which he totally wouldn't touch .. like EVER.). Like the porn under a teenage-boy's mattress.  
  
"What?" he snapped.  
"I'm talkin' about Sam, Dean. What is this supposed to be?" Surely Bobby didn't understand. Couldn't possibly understand. Because THIS? Despite of how ridiculous this was? How bad he didn't want to feel the draw towards this man?  
  
He totally did.  
And it was changing him - Somehow. It was changing his thinking. As if the things he thought before weren't as bad anymore. As if – the more contact he had with the omega – he was getting intoxicated.  
A slow, but sure death – like poison.  
"I'm just being nice," the ex-hunter retorted. "You said yourself that I shouldn't be such a dick. Now I'm acting nice and I'm gettin' pissed at again, Bobby. Could you please make up your mind?" His voice sounded much too whiney.  
  
Bobby shook his head, gaping at him. His mouth opened and closed again. "I told you about a hundred times before to play nice with omegas. You never listened. Why'd you do it now? 'S there somethin' I don't know, boy?" He kept his voice deliberately calm and soft, making sure the omega wouldn't hear a single word of it.  
Dean rolled his eyes and tilted his head back to look at the ceiling, huffing out a frustrated breath, covering the hurt he felt perfectly.  
  
Bobby was right. He had never paid attention to the older man's attempts of getting some sense into his brain. So why would he listen now?  
He'd never been affected by an omega like that. Not that he'd know. Which made it pretty clear that there was something different about SAM. Sometimes – like when they were sitting by their windows – it felt like an invisible bond between the both of them.  
Yes. A bond. No matter how cheesy or insane it may sound. After all, Dean couldn't change what he felt, right?  
"Dean?"  
  
The ex-hunter cleared his throat gingerly. "Everything's fine, man. Look." He sighed. "I'm just being nice, okay? Nothing more, nothing less." Big honest emerald-green eyes stared right into blue elderly ones.  
He stared for a pretty long time, before Bobby seemed to give in and cast his look aside. "Fine," he huffed. Something like disbelief stressing the syllable.  
Satisfied, Dean smiled at the older man. "Good. Can I go back to watch the movie?"  
  
"Series." Bobby muttered.  
"What?"  
"He ain't watchin' a movie, boy."  
Dean rose an eyebrow. Well, he hadn't exactly paid attention to the TV. He gave the older man a quizzical look.  
"Didn't think you'd be the type of guy watching Knight Rider on a sunday afternoon. That's all." A smug grin plastered the seasoned hunter's face, well hidden behind his beard.  
"KIT's a classic, Bobby." He winked at him before he sauntered back to his rightous place on the couch.  
Dean slumped down on it and threw his legs on the coffee table as he glanced past the recliner and Sam towards the TV.  
  
The omega was watching McGiver anyway. Smug old bastard got him good.  
Sam caught the hunter's gaze for a milli-second before he looked back at the TV with a heavy sigh.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Monday morning came the call ...  
A counselor and an apartment had been found for Sam. In Columbus, Nebraska. A three hour's drive. In a different town. A different State.  
Amelia Richards would pick the omega up on thursday at noon and help him to get settled in the apartment. She'd check in on him each day for the first week and a half. Then only once each week. Just because Jody had her connections and had convinced the authorities that this was the best solution.  
  
That they couldn't put him into an apartment and think it'd be okay. Because it wouldn't. So the best they could organize was, that Amelia'd be there each day. At least in the beginning.  
Without Dean knowing, Bobby had told Jody to let him know if it worked or not. And if it didn't work that he'd want Sam to come back to the salvage.  
Without Bobby knowing, Dean had told Jody the exact same thing – just at six o'clock in the morning instead of shy before ten like Bobby did.  
They kept the garage closed that day.  
  
Dean didn't feel like working at all despite that he loved his job.  
Bobby didn't feel like working either, since he had been watching Sam pack his spare belongings into a pack back. Sam had looked beyond miserable and as if he hadn't slept the past two nights.  
He hadn't. He'd been sitting in his recliner by the window and had stared outside.  
  
Somehow he felt like he needed to leave. To save those people. It wouldn't do any good if he'd stay there. After all he KNEW why those vampires – HENRY – had taken him. May the "hallucinations" were gone, but the rest? Damn. He so wished it all'd stay gone and wouldn't come back. If only it'd be true. What he saw in those "visions" (how he called them) or "hallucinations" (how the doctors called them) – he completely understood why he'd let them do the surgery. Why he wanted this. If those visions were anything similar to his dreams ... He couldn't imagine. He didn't want to imagine what it had been like before.  
  
Now he was here. Standing on the porch of Bobby's house, a back pack in his right hand, since his left side still stung at the wrong movement or when he'd put strain on his still sore muscles.  
There wasn't more than a toothbrush, toothpaste, a pair of jeans, sweatpants, two shirts and a ten-pack of new boxers in them anyway.  
  
Sam whipped his head around, looking at Bobby, who somehow looked kind of miserable too. The omega gave him a little smile.  
"Thanks for everything," he said softly. "I ... When I can ... I mean ... When I've a job ... then I'll .. I'll pay you."  
The older man's beard twitched. "You're welcome boy. Don't you worry. Might as well look after your own, kid." He patted his shoulder.  
Sam let him, though couldn't stop the shudder which coursed through his body at the – for him – sudden contact.  
  
He turned towards Dean. Meeting his gaze for the first time when they were that close. Actually only a yard apart. His smile brightened a bit at the strong scent of the alpha so close to him. His hazel-green eyes sparkled in the warm winter sun, showing off all of their shades between green and brown.  
  
Dean didn't say anything. He just looked up at the taller man, not able to say a single word. Not needing to say anything. The corners of his lips turned up slightly and gave a twitch.  
The ex-hunter locked his gaze with Sam's. They didn't need to say a single thing. They didn't need to say anything at all.  
For the glimpse of a moment the both of them knew exactly what the other one was thinking. Or rather feeling. Though, the moment ended abruptly, when the distant noise of an approaching car was heard.  
A black Sedan. The back windows tinted darkly.  
  
Sam looked towards the arriving vehicle over his shoulder and then back at Dean. Somewhat like a hopeful expression in his eyes.  
He wanted to stay. But it was not HIS place to decide wherever he was allowed to or not. Hell, he'd sleep on the floor if it'd be nessasary. He just didn't want to move into a town where hundreds, maybe thousands, of people lived. With no one he actually knew.  
Without the alpha ...  
Dean blinked, his face suddenly blank.  
When the black Sedan stopped mere yards away from the porch, and a small black-haired woman emerged, smoothing silken curls back behind her hears, Sam's guts tightened.  
Dean's did too.  
  
"Sam?" she called out as he walked up the porch. Of course she wore a friendly smile and nice big brown eyes shone at him. "Amelia." The woman extended her hand towards him in a friendly gesture.  
Sam's eyebrows knitted together and he instantly drew back a step, eyeing her warily.  
Her face fell, but she managed to keep her expression light. "We've a three hours drive , so ... I'd say we should get on our way." She nodded towards Bobby and Dean, giving them an apologetic look, saying "Ain't your problem anymore, guys. I got this now".  
  
"Thought you'd like to have a coffee?" Bobby offered. "After such a long-."  
"No." She rose a hand to stop him. "It's fine. Really." Her smile turned stressed. "I've a strict shedule, I'm sorry." She really seemed to be, as she looked longingly past Sam and towards the front door. "But ... I can't."  
Sam gave Dean another look. A wide open one, laying all his emotions into it, hoping that he'd catch up on them.  
  
The alpha could smell the distress and fear. He could SEE it – written all over the omega's face and specially in the man's wet eyes. He could say that he'd take Sam in. Right now. He really could. He'd find a way to make it work in the cabin. Somehow it'd always work.  
And once it worked, he had the rare gift to burn it all down to ashes again. Like always. Who'd say he wouldn't mess Sam up even more if he tried? Because he sure as hell would. He always did.  
After all ... If it wasn't the right thing for the omega in Columbus, Jody'd call. She'd let him know. And then he would go and pick Sam up and take him back to the Salvage and try his luck.  
They just hadn't had enough time. Hell, they hadn't even had a real conversation yet and he was already planning. PLANNING, for hell's sake.  
  
Dean shook his head unconcsiously to shake off the very thought.  
So instead of telling Sam to stay, he said: "Good luck, kiddo." And that was all.  
Sam's face fell and to the scent of distress and fear mixed sadness and disappointment. Something he could smell so clearly ... so purely ... it had to be forbidden. No alpha was capable of scenting someone's odor like that – not so precise at least. So why the hell could he? On top of everyhthing else it was an omega's one too.  
Fate had sense of humor, apparently.  
  
Sam gave him an understanding nod, despite that he didn't know what he was supposed to understand, and walked away towards the Sedan. He hadn't another option. If neither Bobby nor Dean wanted him to stay – if they didn't like him enough – he had to leave. He had to try and find his own way somewhere else.  
Dean told himself that he had still time. That he could still stop this woman from taking the omega away.  
But he didn't.  
  
He simply didn't.

... to be continued


	5. Starved

Fields Of Jasmine  
Chapter 5 ~ Starved

It was an apartment building.  
A real huge one, Sam figured. Even if he couldn’t remember ever seeing one in his life, he knew that he could call this one huge. It took up almost an entire block among blocks of apartment buildings.  
Sam followed the delicate woman who guided him hastily across a massively trafficed street towards it. Once safely arrived on the other side, she aimed straight for the grey buidling's entrance. In there, they walked towards an elevator, where she pressed the up-button.  
"So ... you're Sam. Not talkative at all, huh?" she asked and blinked up at the tall omega, her nostrils flaring as if she was scenting him.  
Sam's forehead furrowed and his eyebrows rose a bit. "No."  
She nodded and nudged him in the side with her elbow.  
Sam bit back a groan, though couldn't help the whimper that pressed thorugh his lips.  
Amelia didn't seem to notice anyway.  
"Well, don't you worry. We'll deal with it, kid, you'll see." she smiled. But she looked stressed. So stressed.  
Sam wanted to believe her, but he couldn't. He saw it in her face. She high likely wished that she'd have enough time, but she wouldn't. She couldn't.  
He gave her a sad knowing smile. "You shouldn't lie to me - I know you are only doing this because a firend of sheriff Mills told you to. He's maybe your boss or something. That's why you'll check on me every day for a week. Usually you wouldn't, would you?" He still smiled, but it wouldn't reach his eyes.  
Her face fell and something in her eyes changed. Sorrow maybe ... or something else that meant that she was pitying him.  
A "ping" was heard and the doors of the elevator slid aside, revealing a small cabin.  
She stepped inside and Sam followed. When the door closed, she pressed the button with the number 17 out of 21.  
"You are right. Currently I have about forty clients, ten of them in intensive care," she told him.  
Sam looked at the led-numbers above the door rising.  
"And I am only checking on you for the first week each day, 'cause I have to. Because honestly?" She cast her look up at Sam. "I'm working about seventy hours per week to keep up with my schedule. But I tell you what: We're gonna make the best out of it, okay? I'll try to help you as good as I can. I'll organize appointments with doctors and I will have someone of our organization drive you there. I will help you get food and things, open an account at the bank for you and we'll go from there on." She smiled softly, reassuringly. "What do you think? Sounds like a plan?"  
Sam smiled back a bit. "sure." He gave Amelia a nod. "So ..." He looked upwards for a moment. "... I will have my own apartment?" A very subtle way to change the topic but it'd do it.  
Amelia nodded. "Yeah." She seemed to understand instantly. "It's nothing big, Sam. But it'll be enough for you – I hope. You'll have a living room with a kitchenette. Toilet and bathroom. A small bedroom. It'll do until you're ready to get your own ... when you find a job or something. You'll see."  
Sam nodded, his smile vanishing slowly.  
When the elevator's doors finally swept open and they stepped outside, a long, dark corridor revealed itself to them. It didn't look like anything that was supposed to be called home. The walls were of a dark green and grey and the tiles beneath their feet had a weird touch of brown and yellow.  
Sam hoped his new "home" wouldn't look anything like that. So he found himself torn between fright and anticipation. Then again ... he didn't have any options. If he didn't want to live on the streets and starve, he needed a place to stay. Even if it was as creepy and filthy as it looked at first sight.  
The omega was pretty surprised when he saw his own apartment. Amelia was right. It was small. But it also seemed clean and the light that came through the windows illuminated the entire living room and a small kitchenette, with a tiny table and two chairs to his left.  
There was also a couch with pillows and a coffee table on which a small TV stood. On the right side of the room were two doors. High likely the bathroom and bedroom.  
So far he hadn't seen the other two rooms, but this one was pretty awesome. There wasn’t a lot of space, but that also meant that he wouldn't have a whole lot to clean up.  
Amelia showed him the bathroom, which was also very neat and and compact. So was the bedroom. Once back in the living room, Sam dropped his bag on the couch and looked around a bit more. The first quarter of the walls from the floor upwards were painted in plain white. Then a thin decorative strip followed and the remaining upper three quarters were painted in a light blue.  
"It's nice," Sam said with a little smile on his lips, without looking at the petite beta by his side.  
"Good." She beamed at him. Sometimes people weren't that easy to satisfy. "The fridge's filled. I hope you're not allergic to anything?"  
Sam shook his head.   
"Fine. You'll make yourself a home and I'll stop by tomorrow afternoon again. Until then I've hopefully arranged some of your appointments - You'll need to see a doctor, who's going to tell us what else you'll need." She smiled at him friendly. "That's where we'll be going from."  
Sam only nodded. "That's fine," he said, but didn't mean it. He really didn't.  
It was nice here – it looked nice. But it didn't feel like home – yet. And he wasn't sure if he'd be able to anyway. Though, he figured, as long as he didn't NEED to get into contact with any other inhabitants of this building it'd be okay.  
At least not just yet, within a week or two. Maybe it'd take a bit until he'd get used to everything.  
When Amelia had left, he slumped down on the couch, staring at the black screen of the TV. Beside it, his gaze landed on a phone. Beside the phone was the charger and a sheet of paper.  
Sam didn't bother though. Whatever the woman couldn't tell him when she was still with him, could surely wait until tomorrow too. The only thing he wanted was a shower and the comfortable looking bed.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Dean rubbed over his face, gulping down another glass filled with amber liquid. He put it back down on the bar and sighed heavily at the thought of Sam – and that he high likely was in his new place by now. Hopefully comfortable.  
The omega's scent seemed to cling to the upholstery of his baby and his clothes. He could still smell him, as if his odor had burned itself into his nose. Dean had even put on an extra-load of aftershave.  
It didn't help anything.  
He hated it.  
Not that he smelled like Sam. No. He hated the decision he made for himself. Dean Winchester even caught himself hoping that Sam wouldn't be able to stay on his own there. So that he HAD TO pick him up from Columbus and make room for him. So that he had a reason to do it, and not just because he wanted to have him there with him.  
The ex-hunter sniffed and ordered another shot. And a beer. Followed by three Tequilas and another beer. What followed after became pretty soon pretty blurry.  
What he could actually remember was waking up in a familiar bed, on not so familiar sheets. Though, the beta's body which lay nestled beside his own felt pretty familiar too. Even the scent and slender arm, which was drapped over his middle.  
Dean groaned. He could also remember hangovers like this ... He just hadn't had one as bad since after a particular hunt gone wrong. Another groan fell from his lips and his face screwed up in a mixture of disgust and confusion, when he felt the nipples of a pair of breasts – very soft breasts – poke into the sensitive skin of his flank.  
Dean took exquisite care to not wake her, as he crept out under the waitress, who had been serving him last night – obviously in more than just one way. Dean bowed over and smoothed her hair back as she stirred at the change of position and went to collect his clothes and put them back on.  
Of course he made as little noise as possible, while he tried to get in his boots without losing his balance or toppling over. Well, Dean Winchester failed miserably. There were a couple of heavy thumps and knocked over items in the process, but he finally managed to get out of the house without being noticed.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Three weeks later ...  
... Dean Winchester was a mess. Besides the day when Sam had left, he hadn't gone to the bar again. He hadn't drunk either after the third hangover. He didn’t even want to get up out of bed. He was sleeping in each day, and he wondered how long Bobby'd tolerate his behaviour.  
How long he'd keep watching his younger friend acting all off and lost.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Amelia had called in sick seven days ago. She had reached Sam over his new phone and told him that she wouldn't be around for a couple of weeks. That she tripped and fell down the stairs where she broke her leg. She had promised Sam, that there'd be one of her coworkers stopping by on wednesday. Brady Random ... or so. She had promised that he'd be a nice one. That he'd take good care of him and that he'd take him out shopping.  
Sam had told her that it wasn't a problem at all. But in fact it was. He actually knew Amelia a little bit by now. He had started to kind of trust her ... and now she was just gone.  
Miserable as he felt to be depending on someone else, he made his first attempts to leave the apartment for shopping (with the money Amelia had left him). And had failed miserably. Hell, he hadn't even made it to the elevator without having a severe panic attack.  
And it was getting worse with each passing day. As if the events from the past year came crushing down on him now – all at once. Sometimes he had real bad nightmares about Henry ... so he figured that if he didn't sleep he wouldn't have them.  
What was actually true.  
But then there was sleep-deprivation. A nasty thing and it dumped his mood into the gutter. Sam started to feel bad about things. Practially everything.  
He didn't even notice when Wednesday passed by without a counselor knocking at his door to check on him. His phone abandoned on top of the microwave in the kitchenette.  
The only thing he craved was safety. The want to feel safe. The urge to wrap himself up in a tight cocoon of fabric as if it'd make things better.  
Sam had searched for Bobby Singer's number. And he had found it. He had even considered calling him. It had taken a couple of days until he brought himself to dial the number. But he hung up each time before the other man would have a chance to pick up his phone.  
So here he was. Without actual food. Without anyone to rely on. Without people who cared.  
Well, at least he'd managed to get take-out. Telling the delivery-guy to put the food in front of his door and he'd push the money through the slit under it.  
Which had worked pretty well. At least as long until he ran out of money too.  
What didn't bother him that much anymore after the second day, since he felt sick each morning and wouldn't even get up from bed until late noon, when the nausea would have subsided. Not to mention the headaches he became on a regular basis now.  
Sam laid on the bed, staring at the ceiling, calling out in his thoughts for someone. For god. For angels. For anything that'd be able to help his aching mind and heart.  
He pulled the comforter high above his shoulders and neck and snuggled back into the pillow, turning on his side.  
Anyone who thought that hunger would dare someone as scared and frightened like the omega to leave his safe haven were wrong. There was nothing Sam was able to do to keep the panic attacks away. Nothing that'd help him through it either.  
Sure he had an appointment with a very nice lady two weeks ago. She had encouraged him and reassured him that together they'd be able to work on it. To make things better.  
And now he was alone. With a raging turmoil of emotions and memories he couldn't cope with. And he was alone. So alone.  
Sam squeezed his eyes shut to hold back the tears once again. He was an omega, but he also was male – at least the bigger part of him. He just needed to keep it together.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Another week later ...  
... Dean Winchester couldn't take it anymore. He had phoned Jody, had told her that he'd like to have Miss Richardson's number, so that he could ask her how Sam was doing and ask her about his address. Because he wanted to visit him. He needed to visit him.  
Jody had called back a couple of hours later and had given him Amelia's number.  
Dean had called the counselor immediately. And she hadn't picked up. So he tried it over and over again, every couple of minutes, leaving messages on her voice mail.  
What felt to him like years later, she finally called back, just to tell him that she hadn't seen Sam in three weeks since her leg was broken. But she gave him the number of a guy named Brady. Who seemed at least as busy as she was.  
THAT guy didn't even bother to call him back last night. Though he must've heard that the messages Dean had left him were urgent. He made sure the guy knew that.  
Dean Winchester didn't sleep last night. Not a single minute. Something was nagging at the back of his mind, making him feel miserable.  
He waited until seven in the morning. Then he took a shower, got dressed into a set of fresh clothes and packed his duffel bag. It was before eight, when he dialed Amelia Richardson's number and laid the phone to his ear.  
This time she picked up at the third ring.  
"Amelia Richardson. What can I do for you?" Her voice was sleepy, but friendly.  
"Hey. Dean Winchester. I can't get a hold of your coworker. Maybe you could give me Sam's address?" he asked casually as if there was no need to press things.  
"Wait. - I need to look that up," she murmured. "He's got a phone too. You could call him yourself," the woman suggested. "I'll give you his number?"  
A faint smile flashed over his face. "That'd be great."  
Dean heard her put the phone down. The rustling of clothes followed. Then the phone got picked up again. It took her about five minutes to get from her bed into the kitchen, where files lay sprawled out all over a big table.  
"So ..." A sigh followed. "For the number. It's 004623 – 55555. His address is: Summerlane Avenue forty-seven. Seventeenth floor, Apartment thirteen."  
"That's mighty nice of you," he cleared his throat. "Thanks."  
"You're welcome. Just ... don't push it, okay? If he doesn't pick up at the first try ..."  
"I won't. Promise." Dean ended the call, pocketed his phone and grabbed his duffel, repeating the address in his mind over and over again, until he found himself in front of Bobby's doorstep.  
He stopped there for a moment and fumbled out his phone, dialing the number Amelia had given him. - It went straight to voice mail."Fuck it," he grumled frustrated and pushed it back into his pocket.  
The ex-hunter went inside and into the kitchen, from where he heard noises that led on, that Bobby was already up and about and preparing breakfast.  
"Up this early, son?" His voice was sleep-rough and wrecked as if he hadn't slept either. Only when he turned around, Dean saw that it had to be just that.  
Dean smirked at him. "You sound like shit, old man."  
His friend turned around to face him, eyeing him curiously. "And you look like shit too, boy." He took him in some more. "You headin' somewhere?"  
The ex-hunter's face softened a bit. "Yeah ... Columbus." His face softened further, it even lightened up slightly. "Checkin' on Sam."  
Bobby tried to look surprised, but his eyes gave away that he had already figured it out. "Huh. Well." His eyebrows arched up. They nearly made a line with his scalp. "You think something's wrong?"  
Bobby tried to keep his face neutral.  
Dean sighed and shrugged as he pinched the bridge of his nose and rubbed over it. "Nah. Just wanna have a look. See how he's doing ... All that." ... If they are treating him right. If he's got the support he needs. If he's got everything.  
The older man didn't believe him. His lips twitched and the expression in his eyes shifted. "You mind if I come with?"  
Of course Robert Singer would never admit that he'd like to see the kid again too. He'd never tell anyone how often he had thought in those past four weeks that it may have been better to leave him on the Salvage instead of letting him go with the counselor.  
Rather surprised, Dean's eyebrows went up and his jaw dropped – At least for a second, before he put his poker-face back on. "Sure."  
"Good. We can pick something up for breakfast on our way - I'm ready in ten." Bobby brushed past his younger friend while he talked and thumped up the stairs.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Dean waited with the running engine in his baby beside the porch.  
Exactly ten minutes later, Bobby emerged, locked his house up and took his place in the passenger's seat. The two of them shared a short glance, before they took off. Gravel giving away under the tires as the car pulled away from Singer's Salvage, southwards.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Amelia Richardson didn't go back to bed no matter how tired she had felt before. Now she was wide awake, turning her phone over and over again in her hands. She had tried to call Sam's phone a couple of times, but he wasn't picking up.  
What could be because he was still in bed and asleep of course. Or because he just didn't want to talk. OR because he couldn't – because he didn't feel good, or was hurt or ... or something else completely ridiculous. After all there was Brady who'd check on him once a week since she couldn't.  
Amelia eyed the file before her. Sam's file. She bit her lower lip, rubbing up and down on her casted leg, her gaze flickering at it every now and then.  
Though she was sick, she felt responsible for her clients nonetheless. She always had. Even when she didn't have a whole lot of time – at least not the amount she wished she had – each and everyone of them was important to her.  
A heavy sigh fell from her lips as she scrolled down her contacts on the phone until Brady's was underlined blue. For a moment she hesitated. After all it wasn't her job. Not right now. And yet it was.  
Those people were her responsibilty. Sam was her responsibility. At least until he'd be able to care for himself. So she dialed her coworker‘s number.  
As it went straight to voice mail, she glanced at the clock behind her, craning her neck painfully.  
It was shy before nine. Brady wouldn't even have stopped by at the office just yet. He might be with one of his clients – even before his working hours would've started.  
Impatiently, she waited for the minute hand to strike twelve. After five minutes she gave up at waiting and decided to get dressed – what was quite a challenge with the cast and crutches. She brewed herself a cup of coffee and opened a yogurt before she went back to the kitchen table, her gaze immediately caught on Sam's file.  
Amelia called her coworker right at nine a.m. again. This time succsessfully. After about the sixth ring he picked up with his name.  
"Hey!" she said.  
Brady greeted her cheeringly, the noises of a busy office in the backround.  
"Hey, I'd like to know how Samuel T. Harvelle's doing. Tall scrawny guy. Shaggy hair. Hazel-green eyes. Picked up in Sioux Falls." She gave him some of the basic information, so he might not have to have a look into his files.  
She could practically hear Brady's forehead furrow through the phone. There was a beat of silence from the man, before he cleared his throat. "You've got his ID-Number handy?"  
Of course he wouldn't know who Sam was. After all her cases got split in half. One half for Brady and the other one for Anna – at least as long as she wouldn't be able to drive and make her visits, since she was capable of doing paperwork from home.  
"Shure thing." She gave him Sam's number.  
The rustling of paper was heard, a curse, and more rustling of paper. "Gotcha." There was a pause. "Okay. Give me a minute here." Again, there was only Brady's breathing and background noises. Obviously he was skipping through the records, searching for a picture or something that'd help his mind to remember the man he should've visited once a week.  
There was some more breathing and noises. Until the breathing stopped and Amelia could hear Brady gulping down a strangled breath. After all those years of working with him in a team she knew by now what he looked like when he sounded like this.  
She also knew, that this wasn't a good sign at all. Not at all.  
"What is it?" she asked after giving her coworker another moment. "What's wrong?"  
Brady cleared his throat. "Well ... I might have a problem now," he murmured hoarsely. Again the rustling of paper. "When did you pick him up from South Dakota?"  
"Brady," her voice low and dangerous. "Four weeks ago. Nearly five. - What is it?"  
"I ... I wasn't there," he breathed into his phone. "I ... I haven't visited him ... Somehow ... I – It must've happened when I matched my appointments with yours. Oh god ... Amelia I'm sorry. I'm so sorry ... I didn't-" Brady started to babble.  
"No," she breathed, her eyes wide in horror. "He didn't pick up, when I called," she murmured. "Brady. We need to get there. If ... Sam's not leavin' the aprtment. Not by himself. I left him a hundred dollars the last time I was there, taking him to the doc. He must've ran out of food and ... Oh god. C'mon. Get your ass over here and pick me up."Amelia's voice turned comanding.  
"I'd be faster If I'd drive there on my own. It's a detour when I've to leave Columbus and-", he started to explain, already gathering his coat and car-keys together.  
"I don't care. You pick me up. We're driving to his apartment and I hope he's okay. For your sake, Brady. I honestly do." She knew failures could happen. They were all only human after all. But this? Forgetting about someone who needed their support as bad as Samuel Harvelle? THAT was a big mistake to make. Specially since the man was an omega. Specially in the situation that man was. "You gotta pick me up, 'cause I can't get there on my own. - 'cause he's been through a lot, which you'd know if you'd have had a look into his file at the beginning. He knows me. You – on the other hand – are a stranger."  
There was silence.  
Some more silence.  
"I'll be there in thrity minutes. Wait in the drive-way," his voice echoing, as if he was already in the parking garage. Then the line went dead.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Dean Winchester's fingers thrummed against the steering-wheel in impatience, his gaze glued to the road.  
Neither – he nor Bobby – had said a single word since they had taken off from the Salvage two hours ago. Not even the radio was playing. It was a long-stretched, strained silence between the two of them.  
The closer they got to Columbus, the stronger the pull on Dean's chest became. It wasn't something he could possilby explain to someone else. Only his body and his mind sensing that he was supposed to be somewhere else. That he shouldn't have been waiting for so long to check on Sam and the closer he came to his destination, the clearer it got. He hadn't been supposed to let Sam leave with this woman in the first place - No matter what anyone thought.  
It was a nameless feeling, that made his chest tight and his gut twist into tight knots of discomfort at the very thought.  
That was when he realized, that he – somehow – didn't care that Sam was an omega. That it didn't matter. That he was what he was. After all Sam T. Harvelle hadn't been the one who had set their house on fire all those years ago. He wasn't the omega who had killed his mother.  
What had he been thinking anyway? His mother had been an omega too. She wouldn't have been able to hurt a fly.  
So what the hell was going on with him? Why had he seen every single omega as his foe all these years?  
Why did this one change his point of view without him even being around? Without talking to him? How was it possible, that Sam had turned him into a softy just by looking out of a window?  
Well, he'd figure that one out later on.  
If he'd ignore all the speedlimits further, he'd get to Columbus half an hour earlier than he was supposed to.  
One thing was for sure: He'd take Sam back to the Salvage with him. No matter what. If there was just the tiniest sign that he didn't feel comfortable there at all, that he wasn't mistaken that the omega may have liked it in Sioux Falls better, he'd get him in the car and drive his ass right back there.  
And if not? He'd do it anyway.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

The drive through the city slowed them down, since they ended up smack in the middle of rush-hour.  
Amelia and her coworker weren't much better off too, though they had about ten minutes on the two men in their black Chevy Impala. Amelia Richardson fought with her crutches as she sturggled to get out of the car a block away from where Sam's apartment was.  
She cursed audibly when she nearly tripped as she put her crutch into a puddle and her broken leg nearly gave out on her. Brady, who usually would've at least chuckled, was pale and seemed as he was feeling a bit nauseous.  
"You've got ya' phone?" she asked him, as they crossed the street side by side.  
"Yeah." Brady breathed.  
"You've got the keys to the apartment?" she wanted to know next. Her voice strict. Her face unreadable.  
"I've got it, Amy. - Okay? I'm sorry," he murmured back.  
"Stop apologizing. What's done is done. I only hope that this doesn't cost someone else's life," she ground out through gritted teeth.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Dean squeezed his baby in between a giant pick up truck and a Mini right in front of Summerlane 47.  
"Ain't this a clearway?" Bobby spoke up, his voice hoarse, as he pointed at a sign. "Except for those who're livin' here?"  
The younger man grinned at his friend and pointed at the glove compartment, before he reached over and opened it. He rummaged through it and finally pulled a certificate of disability out, which he stuck in between the windshield and vent on the driver's side.  
"You ain't disabled," the hunter exclaimed gruffly.  
Dean gave him a look.   
Bobby gave him a look back. "Well ... maybe you are," he shrugged and pushed his door open. Dean followed shortly after. He scanned the front of the building with a dark look as he narrowed the entrance.  
Once inside, the knot in Dean's gut tightened painfully at the sight of the ugly looking walls ... and freaking puke-brown tiles. Nothing about this place was anything like the Salvage. Of course, Bobby's house reeked a bit like old books, herbs and what he imagined a grandma's closet smelled like.  
But this? THIS? In a district like that one?  
They sure as hell had to do better than this ...  
Dean pushed the thought aside, as they reached the elevator. His jaw was set tight, when his hunter-friend looked over at him with an at least as pissed expression on his face. He sure wished he wouldn't have sent the oemga away too.  
Once inside with Bobby, Dean hit the button with the number 17 on it and then they were on their way. The elevator made curious squeaking and groaning noises as if he was about to just stop, or rather fall.  
The small hairs on Dean's neck rose at the very thought.  
When it finally stopped and the doors opened, both hunters made hasty steps into the corridor outside, lucky about having survived a ride in the killer-elevator. Both men imediately caught the movement down the corridor, where a female and a guy stood in front of a door, knocking and talking.  
At first, the both of them didn't recognize her, but the closer they came, the more precise the two appeared.  
"Amelia?" Dean and Bobby muttered surprised in unision.  
Of course, the strong scent of an alpha wasn't lost on the two by the door and they looked up curiously, to find Dean Winchester standing beside them, his head tilted slightly to the side and his jaw pushed forward.  
The feeling that something had to be wrong set off a range of emotions and white hot anger.  
"You guys have the keys?" he asked coldly. His gaze promised cold-blooded murder if they'd tell him no.  
Brady glared at him and before he could open his mouth to snap at the hunter, Amelia rose her hand to stop him. "Sure we do - It just looks like there's a key in the lock on the other side," she explained shortly. "We're waiting for the lockout service." Her voice was calm, but her face contored in worry.  
Dean shooed the two aside and shared a glance with Bobby. The older man pulled a small case from the inside of his jacket and handed it to Dean.  
The ex-hunter glared at the two from the councelor services.  
"You guys are morons,“ he ground out through gritted teeth. Of course he knew that they surely had a bunch of work, but that didn't justify that they'd neglect one of their clients. Specially not this one. Not Sam. Not after what he had been through ...  
Dean fumbled with the set into the lock, pursing his lips slightly when he felt a resistence from the other side. Though, he knew how to handle this – He had handled locked doors for years. And not a single one had stayed shut, that much had to be said.  
A second later a click was heard and he pushed the door-handle down, nudging it open.  
Instantly the smell of something rotten crawled up their nostrils and let everyone hold their breaths after the first lung full of old air and Sam's scent.  
To the ex-hunter's surprise, the apartment didn't look as bad as the corridor. It even seemed acceptable – except for the mess.  
Dean gave the counselors another glare. Warning them to just say a single word that could set him off. The odor of anger streamed in thick waves from the ex-hunter, as he limped inside first. He looked around, taking in the small living room with a kitchenette on the opposite side.  
That was one hell of a mess. Take-out boxes littered the counter. There were two huge plastic-bags in the corner on the floor stuffed to the top with more boxes.  
Sam hadn't brought the garbage outside - He couldn't ...  
Dean's nose screwed up and he growled deep down in his throat. Actually growled and threw a deadly gaze over his shoulder towards the both counselors. He didn't bother to inspect the room any further since it was obvious that Sam wasn't there.  
"Sam?!" he called out while he walked to the first door and opened it.  
Bathroom. No one home.  
"Sammy?" he asked as he walked up to the other room's door. "You in there kiddo?"  
He waited a few moments, that stretched into a long agonizing minute. Everyone stood still in the room. Except for Bobby. He was sniffing into one of the chinese take-out boxes from the counter and pulled a face at the green-yellow fungus growing inside of it.  
Dean didn't knock, even when he thought about it for a second. It took him everything to not just rip the door open and storm inside, crying bloody murder for not answering him. Instead he opened the door slowly and lurked inside.  
The bedroom wasn't big. There was a cupboard under the window on the oposite side of the door. It enlightened the whole room with daylight, since the curtains were drawn back completely. At the right wall was a bed and a nightstand. Nothing else.  
Dean's eyes widened. The bed was definitely occupied. "Sam?" he asked, his voice all of a sudden hoarse.  
The omega wasn't dead. He knew that. He'd feel it, wouldn't he? There wouldn't be that pull in his chest, literally dragging him over to the bed and making him fall to his knees beside it.  
The figure beneath the comforter was completely covered by it. There wasn't a single inch standing out from under it.  
"Sam. - 's that you?" Of course he knew that it could just be him. Who else'd be in the omega's bed. Besides, he didn't smell anything else besides OMEGA.  
Dean's fingers curled around the top of the comforter and he ever so slowly drew it down from where he figured that his head had to be.  
Dean sucked in a sharp breath at the sight before him. Pale skin. Dark circles around closed eyes. The smell of someone not having showered in days. Soft stubbles along a sharp jaw and the labored rise and fall of a chest ...

... to be continued


	6. Peace

Fields Of Jasmine  
Chapter 6 ~ Peace

Dean blew out a breath he didn't even know he was holding. His fingertips ghosted over the younger man's cheek and curve of his jaw, towards his neck.  
The omega didn't rouse. As if he was in a deep slumber.  
  
Dean Winchester's fingers found Sam's pulse, resting there above the steady but slow thumps. The ghost of a smile hushed over the ex-hunter's face at that.  
"Sam," he said, guiding his fingers away from the man's throat and up to his cheek, cupping it. "You with us?" He turned the man's face so to have a better look at it, rubbing his thumb over the man's jaw and chin.  
It felt so good to be able to touch him. To feel the man's skin against his own.  
  
His skin was cool and felt clammy under his touch. Besides ... he looked even thinner now that he had a better look at Sam. Dean's other hand found its way on the man's shoulder.  
"There's nothing to indicate he had something to eat recently," Bobby's gruff voice was heard, giving the both counselors a judging gaze. Unseen by them, since he was looking over their shoulders from behind and into the room.  
Dean noticed his older friend's words, but didn't react on them instantly. Instead he stored them away for later yelling; he wanted to know this stuff, but it woudn’t help Sam any at the moment.  
  
Dean pinched the omega in his bicep, trying to wake him. There was a low moan. Fluttering eyelids, which stayed closed. The twitch of muscles under Dean's touch.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

He had been drifting in and out of awareness.  
Sam had caught gazes at his room every now and then. More then than now. He couldn't remember when he had last opened his eyes – but he thought it had been still dark outside. NOW there was light shining thorugh his closed lids as his mind started to rouse.  
  
That meant it was daytime. Something else had changed too. The scents he smelled ... It wasn't just him anymore. There was something else familiar now too. Something his dazed mind couldn't quite put a finger on. A presense – so close. So close he had the feeling he could touch it.  
  
Sam swallowed, his mouth and throat feeling thick and dry.  
The smell of old wood and oil ... and musk crawled up his nose and set a domino effect of feelings and thoughts off.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Dean looked back over his shoulder, looking past Brady and Amelia and straight at his hunter-friend. "Could you bring us some water?" He deliberately didn't say me or him. He had said us. US because it felt more than right to do so – though later on he'd wonder about himself because of it.  
  
"We should call an ambulance." Amelia was already fumbling for her phone, while she put her weight on one of her crutches while she balanced the other one, reaching for her phone.  
"Keep it, lady." Dean said coldly, addressing her with a dangerous look. Too Little too late – was what he thought. "He won't need a hospital. - Only someone who's lookin' out for him." He still stared at her sternly. "And that ain't you anymore." His lips formed into a tight line. "He's comin' back with us."  
  
"What?" the woman's voice high-pitched. "You can't just take him with you - There's-"  
"There's nothin'." Bobby came up from behind with a glass of water in his hand and maneuvered through between the both of them so to hand Dean the glass. "You can let your orderlies know that he's in Sioux Falls. I'll call Sheriff Mills as soon as we're on the road again."  
  
"You can't take him with you," Brady spoke up, looking bolder now, his gaze flickering from the omega on the bed to Bobby and to Dean. "He's under our care for reasons."  
Dean snarled. Actually snarled. Because he didn't give a fuck about what those people thought Sam was. After all it was obvious that those people may gave him a roof over his head, but they surely underestimated his condition.  
It wasn't like there had been any one of them around for at least a week or two - Giving the state Sam was in, he might haven't been checked on for even longer. Otherwise he wouldn't have been eating take-out food instead of going out and have a look at what was available at the stores.  
  
"He's under mine." Dean fixed the man with a stern gaze. "Now get the hell out of here before I call the authorities and force you to be removed."  
Dean turned back towards the omega as he took the glass from Bobby's hand, stroking absently with his thumb over Sam's cheek all the while he had been talking.  
Brady huffed out a breath and rolled his eyes.  
  
"We just want to help, Dean," Amelia tried.  
"Well, I think you've been helping enough, haven't you?" He didn't need to look over his shoulder to know that his words had hurt. They had to have hurt. It was meant to hurt. Because he was right. And he knew it.  
He also knew, that the whole system was guilty too, but he couldn't help the urge to blame those two guys for it.  
  
"Maybe she's right and we should call an amublance. Have him checked-" Bobby didn't get any further.  
"No. I don't think he'd be comfortable.", Dean said. "Besides ..." Of course he was considering their suggestion. Just not right now. First he needed to know if it truly was necessary to get the omega into a facility, where dignity wasn't quite a basic right.  
Dean snuck his hand under Sam's neck and tilted his head up, which lay limply in his grasp. He then set the glass at the man's lips and wetted them a bit.  
"Besides. I think that he's a bit dehydrated ... I can handle that," he continued as he watched Sam taking small sips of the cool liquid. "He's just too exhausted to open his eyes yet."

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

A warm hand was cupping the back of his neck and there was cool liquid seeping into his mouth and flooding it slowly. Instinctively – gratefully – Sam swallowed, wetting his mouth and throat and wanting to protest when the flood ebbed away and eventually stopped.  
  
Sam wanted to open his eyes and see. He NEEDED to open them to see with his own eyes. To know that it was really him. The alpha. Dean Winchester. Or if his senses were playing tricks on him, mocking him – or dragging him further away from reality.  
Wasn't it ridiculous that he hoped that some stranger was there with him? A knight in shining armor rescuing the damsel in distress? Yes. Yes it definitely was. And it was embarassing.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Dean smiled as he saw the omega's attempt to follow the glass as he pulled it away from dry lips.  
"He'll come around," the ex-hunter said softly. "We'll stay with him until he's ready for traveling," he exclaimed, laying more of his alpha into his voice as he had attempted to.  
"Dean. - Please." Amelia took a step towards him.  
  
He didn't look back, despite the urge to glare her to death. "What? The things you can do here? Well, I think he'll be better off with us. Bobby's got the Salvage. Enough space for him to walk around without meeting someone else. A house which he can leave without stumbling over some stranger. There's always enough food. We cook dinner regularly." His voice was a bit calmer now. "There's no better place for him than there. I've a friend who I can call if there are troubles. She's a (he nearly said psychic) ... psychologist."  
  
Amelia sighed.  
Brady continued to glare.  
Amelia gave Bobby a questioning look while she watched him closely.  
Bobby had thought the very things himself right after entering the apartment.  
  
"You'll just put him in one of your facilities," Bobby continued, keeping his features unreadable. "I don't think that's the right thing for the kid."  
"You can't believe that just because you're an alpha that-" Brady got stopped, a hand in front of his face. Amelia's hand. Right there. Only an inch before his nose.  
  
"They're right," she murmured, defeat in her voice. "A facility won't be the right place to put him. - Though." She looked at Bobby. "I'll have to inform my overlies. They will adamant that someone stops by – without letting you know before – and check on Sam. They'll demand to talk to him in privacy without either one of you."  
  
Bobby held her gaze, ignoring the unspoken threat in her voice. "Won't be a problem at all."  
"Okay." She turned to face her coworker and then looked around the room once more. "I'll get things in motion then. Let my boss know that Sam's going to stay here for another couple of days and that he'll be taken to Sioux Falls. I'll need a phone number and address for the both of you." She addressed Bobby, acepting that the Winchester was busy otherwise at the moment.  
  
Bobby nodded.  
"Brady's gonna help you to clean the mess up. I'll go and get someone to bring groceries," Amelia said, already facing towards the door. She gripped the man's sleeve and tugged at it, showing him that it was time to get going.  
Only hesitantly, Brady followed.  
Bobby breathed out a sigh of relief. "Want me to get something else?"  
  
There was a beat of silence, while Dean let the omega have another couple of sips from the water.  
"Yeah - Maybe you could go and grab us some grub? Crackers, soup ... maybe hot chocolate and a milk-shake?"  
Bobby nodded. "Sure. No problem. What'd you want?"  
  
"Burgers would be fine, Bobby." His voice turned soft. So very different from how he had talked to the counselors.  
With that, the older man turned around on his heels and left, taking Amelia with him on his way out of the apartment. Once there, he handed her a calling card for himself and scribbled Dean's number onto the backside, letting her know that the both of them had the same address.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

When Bobby came back with bags full of food, since he hadn't been sure what would be the right kind of soup and which milk-shake the omega would prefer, he had bought one of each kind. And that was a lot.  
Bobby figured they'd save them up and if no one would eat them, they'd throw them into the garbage before they'd leave.  
  
Dean had managed to get two whole glasses of water into the omega in the meanwhile and Brady had disposed of the boxes and cleaned up the counter. He only had to bring the plastic-bags down and then he'd be done.  
Bobby set the bags with food onto the now clean counter in the kitchenette and stacked the plastic bowls with ten kinds of soup up beside the fridge. He then put the one with tomatos and noodles into the microwave so that he could heat them up as soon as Dean'd tell him to.  
  
When the old man entered the bedroom, Dean was sitting at the bed's edge, watching the omega intently. The omega had his eyes open, watching Dean closely. His hand rested on top of the covers, his fingertips close to where the ex-hunter's knee was – nearly touching.  
  
For someone who didn't know it probably would've looked weird. But Bobby – who had seen how Dean had suffered – literally suffered – it was cristal clear. That was why he had been relieved to see Dean manning up and deciding to check on Sam himself before Bobby had to intervene and kick the kid's ass down to Columbus.  
  
Hell, he'd driven up here by himself and would've picked Sam up if Dean wouldn't have made a move soon. Bobby had seen too much to hold his feet still when he saw someone acting as off as Dean had the past four weeks.  
He had slept in. Hadn't bothered to check his phone just once. The ex-hunter wouldn't come over and have dinner with him – not once (and usually Dean was the one who'd besieged his kitchen and would bother him about cooking). Dean was the one who wouldn't care about the cars that came in for repair. Wouldn't badmouth cars that were an European or Japanese brand. He seemed to not care anymore.  
  
So yeah, he'd seen the signs, even when Dean wasn't aware of it. Well, at first he hadn't noticed anything – as Sam had stayed with them. Not at first anyway. Just when he noticed, that the both of them were staring at each other through the night from their windows it set his bells going.  
Not to mention the fact, that – even when he hadn't talked about Sam – he had been thinking about the man.  
"I'm back, boys." Bobby lurked inside the bedroom, catching Dean's gaze when he looked his way.  
Dean looked back down at Sam, who had pulled his hand back from where it had been resting, and up to his chest, where his fingers closed around a corner of the comforter.  
"You hungry?" he asked, his gaze locked with the omega's.  
Sam gave him a jerky nod without looking away.  
  
Bobby cleared his throat gingerly. "You like tomato-soup?" He gazed at the youngest among them.  
The omega tore his look away from the ex-hunter and towards Robert Singer, giving him a nod too.  
"Dean?" Bobby asked.  
The hunter turned his gaze towards him, a quzzical look on his face as if he had been deep in thought and gotten ripped away from them abruptly.  
"You want your burger now? Gotcha onion-rings and fries," he asked.  
While Sam trained his gaze back at Dean, Dean looked rather clueless towards Bobby.  
  
After a moment of silent staring, Bobby blew out a long breath. "I'll take that as a yes." And with that he sauntered back into the kitchen, where he poured the soup into a mug and one of the styrofoam-bag's ingredients onto a plate. Bobby tested the soup's temperature by taking a small sip.  
He decided it wasn't too cool nor too hot. Just right.  
When he came back into the bedroom, Sam was already sitting, leaning against the wall on the bed. Dean took the mug from Bobby and tested the temperature too – by taking a small sip.  
Bobby gave him a judging look.  
  
Dean ignored it and inched back on the bed until he was sitting right beside Sam. He handed the man the mug, watching him as he brought it to his lips for the first time. He watched him, as the omega's eyes slid shut and as he made a comfortable sound in the back of his throat as he had the first taste.  
Bobby stood beside the bed watching it.  
"You want your grub in here?" he finally asked after the silence continued and only Sam's occasional slurping was heard.  
Dean shook his head. "Nah - Gonna eat outside. Just waiting until Sam's done."  
  
Yeah, he wasn't the omega anymore, that was what Bobby noticed too. It was SAM. Not bitch. Not bastard. Not that thing. It was Sam.  
"You sure? I could bring it inside." He was far away from insisting that Dean'd eat with the omega, but he could nudge him into the right direction, couldn't he?  
Dean nodded, but said "No." he wanted to wait until Sam was asleep again.  
Which didn't take very long after the mug was empty and the omega laying down again. When the ex-hunter was sure that Sam slept fitfully, he walked back out into the living room, where Bobby sat at the small table, plates with food already warmed up and prepared, only waiting for Dean to be done.  
  
The ex-hunter sat down and eyed the burger for a moment, before he looked up at Bobby. He looked miserable. A bit pale and nauseous.  
"Bobby ..." Dean started, leaning back in the chair. He sounded serious. His gaze was serious. Hell, his whole posture signaled that it was something serious he needed to say.  
"Yeah?" Since Dean was sitting at the table with his lunch before him, he didn't see a reason to not dig into the meaty part of his food and start to eat.  
"Bobby - I think I'm sick ... or something." He even sounded miserable as hell.  
  
The grizzled mechanic, and part-time-hunter looked up from his plate, cocked an eyebrow at Dean and hurried up to get the chunk of burger down his throat. So he gulped down half of the beer-bottle afterwards.  
"How come?" he asked, looking as curiously as a small puppy-dog. "You're not feelin' good?"  
Dean shrugged as he stared back at his burger. "Something's wrong with me. Something's ..." He sighed. "I don't know. It's weird ... I ... Something's goin' on here, Bobby. Ever since ..." He sighed again, rubbing over his face. "Since we've taken Sam with us. When we killed Savanger. It's ... something's different." His features screwed up in a mixture of disgust and curiousity. "I ... I was on this hunt six weeks ago ... do you remember?" Now he looked up, fixing Bobby with his gaze.  
Bobby nodded. "Yeah?"  
  
"It had been about those witches. I – I freaking hate witches - ... I think it could be a curse – or something." He cleared his throat and made a sound as if he was going to vomit any moment.  
"You think a witch cursed you? Six weeks ago?" Bobby had to ask again. He couldn’t not ask. Though the spark of amusement was omnipresent in his blue-grey eyes.  
"Yeah .. .I mean ... I figure. A spell would've worn off by now. So it‘s gotta be a curse, right?" A hopefull expression on his face, as Dean looked up again, giving Bobby a glance which practically begged him to tell him that it had to be a curse. Because a curse they'd be able to fix.  
  
Bobby nodded absently, his lips twitching. "Oookay," he drew the word out as it rolled from his tongue and he leaned back, beer still in one hand.  
"I've changed. Haven't I? I mean ... Maybe the omega somehow triggered it. And the witch knew that I'm not best friends with omegas, so ... It's the only thing that makes sense, right?" Dean chewed on his bottom-lip nervously.  
"It usually ends in death if a witch curses someone. So ... you're still walkin' and talkin' - Besides ... such a curse – no matter what kind – the victims mostly end up dead within three weeks. Either by killing themselves or getting killed." Bobby leaned forward again. "You'd be long overdue."  
  
Now Dean Winchester gave his friend a look. "You know that there are exceptions."  
"Why not think about more plausible reasons why you feel the way you feel?" Bobby's lips twitched again. "Maybe it's got nothing to do with witches and curses?"  
He waited. Patiently. For Dean. To finally get it.  
But the alpha obviously didn't. He just looked at Bobby as if he had grown two heads.  
  
With a sigh, Dean straightened up in his chair and glanced at the bedroom door which stood slightly agape, before he turned back around, wolfed his burger and beer down, followed by a huge piece of pie. Another beer. And a coke.  
They then took a swipe through the apartment, leaving out the bedroom. They weren't even very silent, but Sam didn't wake through it all.  
A coworker of Amelia stopped by with groceries.  
  
While Bobby stored them away, Dean warmed up another cup of soup in a mug. The ex-hunter went into the bedroom with the mug and sat down at the bed. He tested the warmth of the soup, before he laid his hand on Sam's shoulder and squeezed it gently.  
"Sammy," Dean whispered gently. "You need to wake up."  
To his surprise, he didn't have to ask twice.  
  
Sam's eyelids fluttered open lazily and he yawned, pink lips stretching tightly over white teeth. He felt a bit better. Not a lot, but a little bit. Maybe it was because of the comforting scent, maybe because of the warmth he felt waking to the presence of Dean Winchester.  
His lips curled up into a tiny smile.  
  
Dean smiled back. A bit more than Sam was smiling at him. He couldn't deny the warmth he felt as he saw those incredibly amazing looking green-brown-blue eyes flutter open. The feeling it roused deep inside him, when he saw those rose lips curl up – even when it was just a bit.  
"There you go." Dean showed the red mug to the omega. "Got something for ya' kiddo."  
Sam's scrunched his nose up as his gaze fell on the mug and looked back up at Dean. The omega propped up on his elbows and inched back a bit until he was in a sitting position. The ex-hunter thrust the mug into his hands.  
Sam tilted his head down, so that his brown hair fell into his face, shielding it from Dean. Hiding his scar from Dean. There was no need to show off his ugly face to this alpha. He may not remember a lot, but the things he had learned during the past year ... It was branded into his mind.  
  
It wasn't just ... THAT. He had learned – Savanger had tought him – how he had to behave. Well, he had at least tried. And he had fought it. Each time, he had fought it all – and had gotten beat up for it. He may even had given in a couple of times. Until he did as he was told. But deep down inside he had been planning his escape.  
And he had succeeded, hadn't he?  
He was out of the club. He was away from Henry and his folks.  
  
And now he was here. Maybe worse off than he had been before, but surely without being molested and forced to do this psychic thing the vamp had wanted him to do. So, as long as he'd keep to himself and not tell these men anything, he'd be safe.  
He knew he'd be safe. And that was weird. Because he knew he shouldn't feel safe. Because he didn't know these men. But he did. And that was that.  
"C'mon. Drink it up." Dean tore him out of his thoughts.  
Sam gave him a jerky nod and did as he was told.  
  
It was time for him to get a new life. May even forget about his old one. Well, the second old one anyway. At least he had managed to delete his first one efficiently. If it was for the file ... and the things he had read ... he was better off not remembering anyway.  
He had been crazy. Shit-hell crazy. Well, he hadn't been, because those things might have been true. He seemingly had visions about things that may happen in the future. But they were gone and wouldn't come back until those things were triggered.  
So he was safe.  
Practically.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

There was a brown Ford van parked on the opposite side of the road. A blonde girl sat behind the wheel, green-brown eyes piercing through the night, watching the windows of the seventeenth floor intently. A mock grin made her lips curl upwards as she spotted movement behind a curtain at the far right side. Her eyes narrowed, as the curtains were tugged aside and Dean Winchester's head appeared there, lurking outside.  
  
"Gotcha," she murmured, her slender fingers curling around the steering wheel tightly. "Ain't no gettin' away from me, Sammy." Her eyes flashed black for a matter of seconds.  
Samuel T. Harvelle was here. And those idiot-hunters hopefully would take him back to Sioux Falls. It'd be pretty difficult to get him out of there, or rather IT, without gaining too much attention. So, the only thing she had to do was wait for the right moment. When it was ready.  
  
Maybe it wasn't such a bad thing to have the omega roaming freely instead of the back of some club or bar, locked down. Maybe it was even better than just good.  
The only thing was, that she had to stay on track until then. She wasn't allowed to leave him out of her sight until the time had come.  
  
Of course, only if it worked the way it was planned ... If not, there'd be plenty of others out there to be used as a vessel.  
  
The only bad thing was, that those people he was with were hunters. So it might not take long for them to notice that something was off with the omega.  
But she wasn't at that point. Not yet.

.... to be continued


	7. Sioux Falls

Fields Of Jasmine  
Chapter 7 ~ Sioux Falls

A couple of days later, Sam was back on his feet. He was showered and shaved. He wore clothes that didn’t stink. His face looked a bit fuller again and had more color. Even the dark circles around his eyes had nearly vanished.  
Despite the fact that he was moving around, he didn't talk a lot. But it was obvious that he was thinking non-stop, his mind permanently somewhere else it seemed.  
  
Currently, Sam was stuffing some of the clothes Amelia had organized for him into his back pack in his bedroom. He gathered his one and only pair of boots – which were also secondhand – and put them on. They were a bit too small though, but Sam wouldn't complain. After all he just had to wear them from the apartment to the car. Then he could pull them off and he'd put them on again when they'd arrive at the Salvage.  
  
Dean had told him that he'd stay with him and not with Bobby. It was the only logical solution after thinking a bit more intensively about it. Because there was still the fact that they were hunters and that Bobby had a whole lot of things in his house that weren't meant to be seen by someone who hadn't dealt with true evil yet. Spell-books. Ancient books about demons and other creatures. Ingredients, used to summon things, or other stuff.  
Things the omega didn't need to know about. At least not yet. Maybe when he'd gotten around or something, they'd tell him. Let them know what they were doing.  
  
Bobby had left yesterday to clean Dean's cabin up and prepare it for the omega's arrival. It wasn't like he didn't want Sam to be with him in the BIG house, but Dean was right. It was too dangerous to leave him strolling through the library or attic on his own. Or when he'd catch conversations between Bobby and another hunter, telling him how to get rid of the THING.  
  
Bobby wouldn't pry. So he told him he'd find a bed for the unused room in Dean's cabin, so that the both of them had a bed and that Dean could keep his room. He'd also take a swipe through the ex-hunter's house and remove everything that could look suspicious to the omega.  
If he hadn't already an inkling about it yet. After all he'd been captured by vampires for close to a year. Though Sam hadn't mention THAT TOPIC once to anyone. He had lived with Bobby and Jim in his house for two weeks ... But Sam hadn't said a thing or asked something weird. Hell, he didn't even look funny at them. Even after catching Bobby while talking to a fellow-hunter about werewolves. At least Bobby had been positive that the omega must've heard something from their conversation.  
Dean packed the rest of the food from the fridge into a plastic bag to take it with them, while he had a watchful eye on Sam through the open door.  
  
When they had gathered all their belongings and Dean had stored everything in the Impala, he went back up to get Sam, where Amelia had arrived a few minutes ago to pick up the apartment's keys.  
"You ready to go?" he asked as he reentered the apartment, turning the Impala's keys over his pointing-finger.  
Sam nodded.  
  
Amelia took a step back from the omega, her hand slipping from his shoulder. She only met Dean's gaze briefly as he handed her the keys.  
They said their goodbyes then. Amelia locked the apartment up after Sam and Dean left it and was on her way again.  
Sam followed Dean wordlessly over the street, waiting on the passenger's side for the ex-hunter to unlock it. Dean gestured to him that he should sit in the front and not in the back, where he had intended to sit.  
Their drive back to the Salvage was rather silent. Dean tried to make random small talk, but Sam only gave short answers like yes and no and a lot of maybes.  
  
They were an hour away from the salvage now. Dean glanced at the passenger's seat every now and then, catching glimpses of the curled up man in it, whose forehead rested against the window.  
"You ain't very talkative, are you?" Dean finally decided to push it a bit. He huffed out an embarrassed laugh. "Don't you ... I don't know ... Maybe you don't wanna be here?"  
  
Sam's eyebrows rose high on his forehead. "No - No. I like to be back in Sioux Falls," he said, his voice hoarse from not using it. "It's nice there. Thank you." There was a glint of a smile as he looked over at the driver.  
Dean hummed curiously.  
  
"It's just ..." Sam sighed, training his gaze back out of the window, his smile disappearing again. "I ... I'm kind of surprised that you're takin' me in." A part of him truly was. "That even anyone came ..."  
The Winchester frowned. "I kinda had to." Somehow this worked better when neither of them talked. Somehow, just looking at each other made things easier.  
Then there was silence.  
Some more silence.  
  
"It's weird," Sam stated, his lips in a tight line now. "When I'm with you ... it feels good and ... I feel kinda safe ... and it's ... it's just weird." He paused. "I shouldn't feel like I know you. Because I don't know you at all."  
Dean nodded. "Yeah. Me too." He bit his lower lip.  
"Maybe we've met some time and I just can't remember ..." Sam whispered, obviously having thought about it too.  
"I'd remember you if we've ever met, kiddo." He breathed in the warm air along with the omega's scent flooding the car. Despite that he had hated it weeks ago. That he had scrunched up his nose at it. It felt reassuring now.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

They drove in silence then until they reached the Salvage. Dean pulled up in front of Bobby's house and killed the engine then, glancing at the passenger beside him.  
"We're here," Dean said softly.  
  
Sam sucked in a shuddering breath, looking out through the windshield, as if he had just woken. He glanced over at the ex-hunter.  
"You don't need to ... I mean. You guys already did enough. You don't have to take me in." He wasn't sure what he wanted to say exactly. He just wanted them to know that they didn't have to feel responsible for him in any way.  
"We don't need to. But we want to, Sam," Dean said right away, catching the omega's gaze for a split second, his hand already reaching for the handle to open the car's door.  
  
When it creaked open, Sam followed his example, shuddering at the cool air. It was definitely cooler over here than in Columbus. He walked around the car to the trunk and waited there patiently until Dean had stretched and limped around to where he stood.  
The ex-hunter popped the trunk open and Sam instantly grabbed his back pack and the duffel Dean had brought along and slung both over his brought shoulders. Dean looked at him curiously, but didn't say anything and took the plastic bag with the left-over food.  
  
Dean took the lead around Bobby's house towards its back, where slowly but surely a smaller house was revealed. There was a porch, a heavy looking front-door, two big windows on either side of it. It looked nice. Real nice.  
When they entered, they got welcomed by a draft of warm air and the smell of Spaghetti Bolognese and Noodles and noises from the kitchen which had to be to their left.  
Sam followed Dean warily, looking around the common room which had to be the living room. There was a giant old couch, a TV and a small fireplace. There were a couple of pictures on the walls and a sawed off shotgun.  
Two doors were on the wall to his right and an open broad archway was to his left - The kitchen.  
  
Dean shed his jacket and boots and put the plastic bag on the ground, completely unaware that the omega stood there frozen. Not quite sure what to do, or where he was supposed to go.  
Just when Dean turned around to tell him to follow, he noticed that a pair of big hazel-eyes were staring at him insecurely.  
"Put the bags down and get some grub," he said thoughtfully. "Bet Bobby made my favorite sugo." A cocky smile crawled over the older man's features. He leaned forward a bit. "He was the perfect housewife in his past-life." Dean winked at Sam.  
Sam's lips curled into a grin and did as he was told.  
  
He then followed the ex-hunter into the kitchen and stopped in his tracks right beside the table. Just then he realized that he did not only have issues when it came to leaving his apartment.  
All of a sudden he felt utterly insecure and misplaced. He didn't belong in that apartment. He didn't belong here either.  
And then everything went to hell. A sudden tightness enclosed his chest. Sam could hear the blood roar in his ears, growing louder by the passing moment and swallowed every other noise around him. His heart sped up rapidly and hammered against his chest.  
  
What had he thought about coming back here in the first place? What had he believed the change of his surroundings would do?  
Then there was a hand on his shoulder. A second one on his other shoulder. They gripped him tight, as he pulled in a strangled breath, his throat closing up on him, not letting enough oxygen into his lungs.  
"Sam." Dean held him by his shoulders – tightly – trying catch the man's gaze. But he was staring through him, focusing on something far far away. "Sammy. What is it?"  
His father had originally taught him that he would have to slap a panicking person across the face. Which he had actually done before. But he didn’t think it was the right way to snap the omega out of it. Not when he thought of what he hand endured.  
The ex-hunter pulled his hands away and cupped Sam's face in them, rubbing his thumbs over the younger man's cheekbones.  
  
"It's fine, Sammy," Dean whispered softly, stepping closer. "Whatever you think you're seeing it ain't real. You're at the Salvage. With me. And Bobby. You know Bobby, right?"  
Sam brought his hands up, wrapping his long fingers around Dean's wrists. "Please ..." he whimpered.  
"Everything's okay. Nothing's gonna happen to you, okay? We'll get through this. We'll show you. You'll be okay." What else was he supposed to say? To tell him? What was he supposed to do? Well, he knew what he liked to do: Wrap himself around that giant guy, tug him close and hush him. But that wouldn't be appropriate. After all he didn't know him that well - Besides ... Sam didn't know him either.  
  
He had said it himself in the car while they had been driving here. Sam wouldn't want him to do that and the possibility that it'd make things even worse was omnipresent.  
"Bobby, you've got his room ready?" he asked over his shoulder.  
Robert Singer, who stood there, a spatula in his hand watched the two men, shocked. Frozen for a moment. "Sure thing, son. Better you get him there ..." he answered.  
Dean let go of the younger man and manhandled him out of the kitchen, through the living room and through the door to his left.  
To his surprise, he found a closet at the wall which parted his room from Sam's and a single queen in the middle of it. Dean urged the younger man further into the room and towards the bed, where he pushed him down into a sitting position after removing the thick comforter covering it.  
  
He made Sam roll on his side, facing away from him, while he stroke his head fondly. "It's going to be okay." Dean started to stroke his back in tender rhythmic circles. "You're safe."  
But it wouldn't work – not at all. So Dean did the only thing he could think off – what he had watched in a documentary about abused omegas (just because he'd been bored and there wasn't anything better on.) a week ago. He made Sam inch further into the middle of the bed and slipped in behind him. Dena then wrapped his arms around the omega and draped his arms so, that he was covering most of the scrawny guy's torso.  
"You gotta trust me on this," he murmured and willed himself to tug Sam as close as humanly possible.  
  
The omega was trembling violently in his grasp, his hands frantically searching for something to hold onto until they found Dean's lower arms. Long fingers encircled them, holding onto them so tight.  
Dean didn't even flinch. He just let him.  
Finally, mercifully, Sam's breaths started to become more regular and even, drawing in deep long breaths and got replaced by weeping and sobbing and hiccups.  
The ex-hunter's grasp lessened slightly, but he kept on holding him.  
  
He wasn't quite sure if he was supposed to say something at all, or if it was necessary to. He decided to go with the flow and keep his mouth shut. So he just kept on holding him, rubbing with his thumb circles into the man's front.  
Sam fell asleep minutes later, his fingers uncurling and slipping to the mattress. When Dean was sure, that the omega was out cold, he wiggled his arm out under him and stood up. After eyeing the man once more, he draped the comforter over him and left, leaving the door to the bedroom wide open.  
  
"He's asleep," Dean muttered hoarsely as he spotted Bobby on the couch. He brushed with his hand through his short spiked hair as he added a deep sigh.  
"Wasn't a very good start," the gruff mechanic picked up a bottle of beer from the table, uncapped it, and handed it to Dean.  
He answered with taking the bottle and huffing out a laugh. "No ..."  
"You've a clue what triggered it?" Bobby asked thoughtfully.  
  
Dean shrugged and shook his head. "Maybe too much too fast? Maybe I should've told him you've been here and that he should get some rest first."  
Bobby huffed out a breath. "You think I should go?" He didn't look up at Dean, but the alpha could tell that it would bother his old friend if he'd say he should.  
  
"Nah - Stay. You cooked Pasta. We'll eat it later." He winked at him and slumped down on the couch beside Bobby, throwing his feet onto the coffee-table.  
"Good." And Bobby wouldn't say any more.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Sam came out of the bedroom two hours later. His hair ruffled and the imprint of his pillow on the left side of his face. He rubbed over his face as he patted into the living room and rubbed his face again, looking around.  
There was no way this guy didn't have a bathroom, right? After all there had to be one – Unless Dean was a naturalist and loved to do his business outside ...  
  
This was ridiculous. He just had to ask ...  
"Hey, Sam." It was Bobby.  
The omega's head snapped up, blinking at the grizzled mechanic sleepily. "Hey," he murmured.  
"You're feel better, boy?" The man actually smiled at him, and was acting as if he didn't just have a mental breakdown.  
Sam nodded, offering a polite smile. "I ..." He looked aside embarrassed. "I ... I need a bathroom?" It was formulated like a question instead of an assessment.  
"Sure." Bobby pointed at the door beside the room he had woken up. "In there to your left."  
  
He gave him a nod and went to take care of his business. When he came back out, there were voices in the kitchen. Definitely the alpha and Bobby and the unmistakable noises of crockery.  
Sam patted over into the kitchen and stopped in the archway, watching the both of them silently.  
When Dean turned around, he smiled at him briefly, before he put the pot in his hands onto the table. Bobby came with another pot and placed it in the middle of the table too.  
"Food's ready." Dean patted with his hand on a chair, right beside the one he was about to sit down.  
Sam followed the invitation and sat down too, staring at the plate before him and then at the beta and Dean as he watched them filling their plates.  
Sam took in a deep breath. The food smelled like heaven. Specially the red sauce.  
"Dig in, kiddo." Dean shoved the pot with noodles and the sugo towards him.  
  
His shoulders slumped a bit at the order and it looked like he tried to make himself appear smaller than he actually was.  
Sam eyed it for a moment and then checked on the plates of the others, calculating how much he was supposed to put on his own. He chose to take a spoon of noodles and two of the sugo.  
Bobby and Dean stole glances at Sam, watching carefully how much he took and how he looked when he took his first fork full.  
  
Neither of them thought that Sam'd say if he didn't like the food. He hadn't before at least. So they figured that they had to watch him to get to know what he liked and what he didn't like.  
"Thanks.", Sam murmured before he took his first bite.  
It tasted delicious. Hell – he hadn't have something like that in a lifetime.  
Dean smirked at the dreamy expression that spread over the omega's face, took in the change of his scent with each breath and felt his mind settle down with the reassurance of having done something right.  
When they were done, Sam helped Dean with the dishes.  
  
"You wanna tell me what that was about?" Dean asked softly. "Not that you need to tell me - I'd just like to know. Did I do something wrong?"  
Sam stole a glance at him and shook his head. "I don't know why. It was just ... It happened."  
Dean watched Sam from the corners of his eyes, weighing if he was telling the truth or not.  
"Bobby's a great cook." Sam smiled a bit, feeling the man's gaze on him.  
  
The grizzled hunter knocked against the wood of the archway to get the men's attention. "I've gotta go. Jim called."  
Dean turned around, eyeing the old man suspiciously.  
"There was a similar case two states over ..." Bobby started to explain, but stopped himself and nodded towards Sam who was completely taken in by his task of drying the plates and pots. "... Car crash with damaged engine. Looks like it got ripped apart from the inside out. Wants to know if we wanna help and fix it."  
  
Dean stole a glance at the back of Sam's head before he nodded absently. "Good thing we got the other fire-bird in time." He smiled a bit. "You're callin' me, right?"  
Bobby gave him another nod. "See ya' boys."  
Sam turned around halfway and gave him a friendly smile. "Until later." he locked his gaze with the mechanic's for a brief moment before he turned back around.  
Car crash was meant to be a case. Damaged engine usually meant that there was one or more deaths. Fire-bird mostly meant victim or witness.  
  
So that was that. There was another case like Sam's. Two states over. Only that one was dead – ripped apart from the inside ... Maybe there was more about the omega than it had looked like at first. Maybe the vanishing of the nest wasn't because they were that good in hiding away from hunters.  
Dean turned back around again with a thoughtful expression and helped Sam with the rest. When they were all done and the ex-hunter had stashed the two pots in the cupboard beside the sink, he cleared his throat.  
All of a sudden his mind was blank again. Not sure what to say. What to do. How to act towards the omega.  
  
His gaze darted from Sam into the emptiness of the room and back at Sam. "So ..." he finally spoke up, his gaze wandering over the appearance before him. "... You've got something in mind? I mean ... I've DVDs and ... well ... more DVDs." He chuckled nervously.  
Sam looked everywhere but the ex-hunter, his cheeks tainted a slight red. "Um ... I ... I don't know," he murmured. "What do you have in mind?" Now he looked up. His huge eyes so innocent.  
Of course the omega had to throw the ball back at him. Couldn't be any other way, right?  
  
Dean bit his lower lip unconsciously, not really knowing what to say or do ... After all the omega was HIS guest. He should've come up with a plan about the "what-to-do-when-he's-here".  
His face lit up with an idea. "I could show you around."  
Sam smiled friendly at him, though he seemed reserved about it. "That'd be nice."  
"Well ... My house's not that big. So ... The room you woke up is yours - Right besides mine if you need something at night." he gestured towards the closed door beside Sam's room. "We've got only one bathroom in here, so ... if you've to go you'll have to use that one. Should I show you?" Of course the man's words were dripping with uncertainty.  
Sam shook his head. "No. Bobby showed me already." He held the ex-hunter's gaze.  
  
Which made Dean a bit insecure and nervous. Feeling the omega's eyes all over him, drinking him in in that shy kind of look.  
"Good. Living room." He nodded towards the couch. "Kitchen." He nodded towards the sink and oven. Right when the words had left his mouth, he could've smacked himself, since it was obvious that THIS was the kitchen and that the other room was the living room. Sam wasn't stupid. He surely knew what a kitchen looked like. "You wanna go outside? I'll show you the rest of Bobby's property. So ... If you'd need anything I could show you how to get to the garage ... When I'm not home or something."  
Sam looked up surprised at "not home". Of course the alpha wouldn't stay with him all the damn time. After all he had to go to work, had to earn money. Of course he would have time to himself and things ... It wasn't like he was a kid anymore, was he?  
"Yeah?" It came out shakier than it was supposed to.  
  
"Good ..." More awkward silence. "Then ... lets get dressed?"  
It was like Sam was waiting for him to take the lead. So he'd take the lead.  
Before the ex-hunter could blink, Sam was off to squeeze his giant feet into his too small boots and get dressed into the only jacket he owned. It was more of a between-seasons jacket than a proper coat for that kind of the year.  
Dean had noticed this earlier already, but he figured it'd do until they'd get out to buy him something new. Besides, he had to wait for his next wage to be able and go out shopping with the tall man.  
Sam shifted where he stood, visibly uncomfortable about something. But he kept that friendly smile on his face, so Dean didn't pay a whole lot of attention to it and as soon as they've left the house it was forgotten again.  
Dean cut back his tempo as they walked across the yard, passing high stacks of wrecked cars, whenever Sam walked slower. The omega looked around as if to memorize every single wreck and what direction they took.  
Besides ... he was walking funny, as Dean had to notice when they were about five minutes into their walk. He eyed Sam curiously from the corners of his eyes as they continued their walk.  
  
Actually it was a nice day. The sky was blue and the sun was up. Though it was a bit chilly and the wind blew cold air into their faces.  
They soon arrived at the garage, which looked more like the mixture of a barn and a brick building. The roof looked desolate and the giant front door was secured with a thick chain and a padlock.  
Sam shivered as another gust of ice cold wind blew against his broad form. He stuffed his hands into the pockets and curled them into tight fists, trying to keep his fingers from freezing into stiff sticks.  
Dean told him some more about the yard while they stood there in the coldness, but Sam's mind started to freeze at least as violently as his body did.  
The ex-hunter eyed him suspiciously, well noticing that Sam was cold. "Guess we'll head back. Don't want you to get sick huh?" He smiled, but it wasn't an honest smile. They shouldn't have gone out here without Sam having proper clothes.  
Sam only nodded, his lips quivering, his cheeks and the tip of his nose tainted in a deep red.  
  
Actually, Dean had kind of waited for the omega to tell him that he was cold and that he wanted to go back. But he hadn't. What meant for Dean that he'd have to have a close watch over Sam. If he wasn't saying what he wanted or needed and if he couldn't talk for himself, it'd be a problem. He wouldn't know what was okay to do and what not. He wouldn't know what'd set him off, nor if it'd be okay if he'd take Sam out for shopping.  
  
The omega could end up with another panic attack in the middle of Walmart or Bobby's Groceries or preferably in between one of those in the middle of the shopping center where he'd have no chance to get Sam out within minutes.  
So yeah. It was important to know what Sam wanted, liked, preferred and what made him feel uneasy and uncomfortable.  
Dean decided that this wasn't a topic for today. After all Sam had just returned to the Salvage and found himself in an unfamiliar place. It'd take time to warm up anyway, so the ex-hunter figured it wouldn't be that bad if he'd try to buy the Sasquatch clothes and let him try them on. After all he could give them back or change them the next day.  
  
Sam swallowed a groan, as his toes got squeezed together inside the tight boot once again, trying desperately to hold the alpha's pace despite his hurting feet. And that only after half an hour of walking and standing.  
He breathed a sigh of relief when he spotted the back of the alpha's house. The Winchester was about five feet ahead, sunken in thoughts as it seemed. Or he felt as cold as Sam and wanted to get back inside desperately.  
Once back in the cabin, Sam hurried up to get out of his boots – it was quite a battle, since it seemed easier to get into them than getting them off again. Sam balanced on one of his feet as he worked on the damn boot, while Dean had his kicked off already and was slipping out of his jacket.  
  
He eyed the omega curiously for a long moment.  
"Hey - Why don't you sit down on the couch? It's a lot easier if you do it while you sit."  
Sam glanced up through long bangs, stilling his struggle and nodded. He limped over towards the couch and sat down on it, feeling the alpha's curious gaze on him all the way there.  
"Looks like they're too small, huh?" Dean watched him further, until the boots were finally gone.  
Sam didn't wear socks. Because he didn't own a pair. So the alpha was capable of seeing the red marks on his toes, soles and bridges of his feet. His eyes narrowed and his gaze darted from the taller man's feet to his face, which was hidden by the hazelnut-brown bangs of hair.  
  
"That your only pair?" he asked after a moment of thinking and chewing his lips.  
Sam gazed up and nodded, embarrassed.  
Dean blew out a sigh and nodded. "Fine - Guess we've to buy you a new pair, huh?"  
Sam shook his head. "No - It's fine. I've those. They're okay."  
  
Dean huffed out a breath. He could tell that Sam probably meant what he said, but the strong stench of distress was palpable in the room. "They're so not okay. You can barely walk with them. They're way too small, kiddo. - And your jacket? It's too cold for it already. You can't go out there like this. You'll catch a cold or worse."  
Sam's lips still quivered from the chilly air. He bit down on them, but couldn't stop the chatter of his teeth either by doing so.  
"I can't pay you," Sam said softly.  
  
Dean didn't answer, because he didn't know what to say to that. He had been the one who'd picked Sam up. He (and Bobby) had wanted him to come back to Sioux Falls with them. He was responsible for the omega now. What also meant that he'd have to provide not only a roof over his head and food, but also proper clothing and shoes.  
There was a beat of silence.  
Sam wouldn't look up at the alpha.  
  
Dean stared at him though as if to demand some kind of retort. Anger was bubbling in the pit of his stomach. But not because the omega wouldn't say anything. Because he'd take whatever he'd get – obviously without complaining.  
Hell, the guy would high likely wear a tutu if he'd tell him to.  
What made him feel even angrier.  
  
Sam rubbed homely and slow over his thighs, as if he didn't want Dean to know what he was proposing with it.  
But Dean wasn't stupid. He knew exactly that Sam was trying to warm his – from the cold – burning muscles up.  
  
"I'll go get us something warm to drink," he mumbled to himself with an added sigh before he turned around on the spot and headed into the kitchen.  
To his surprise, Bobby had thought about everything. And when Dean thought everything, then he meant EVERYTHING. There was even apple-cider in the fridge, which he only had to warm up and spike with a shot of bourbon and sugar.  
Sam still looked miserably cold when he came back into the living room. The man had his bare feet tugged underneath him as he sat in a kneeling position on the couch. When he looked up at the emerging ex-hunter, he took exquisite care that his hair was covering the disfigured half of his face. Sure Sam knew that he couldn't hide the scar completely, but he could at least try.  
Dean sat down beside him and held the mug towards the omega, who took it with a murmured "Thanks".  
  
Sam breathed the steam which rose from the smelling liquid in and found himself surprised that there was – beside the sweet scent – also alcohol involved. Though he wasn't sure if he'd like it. After all he had no clue what he had preferred before he let them poke around in his head and during his time with Henry and the others, he hadn't have fancy things to eat or drink.  
  
Ever so carefully he sipped at the mug and his eyes widened in surprise when the first touch with his taste buds sent sparkles right up into his mind, drawing a moan from his throat.  
Dean chuckled and took a long gulp himself. Not bothering about the warmth, nor the burn of the alcohol in his mouth and throat. "That's good." He groaned.  
Sam leaned back a bit, visibly relaxing, cupping the warm mug in between his hands. "That's good," Sam repeated, his voice full of wonder. "What's that?"  
"Apple cider, sugar and a shot Bourbon." Dean smiled warmly at the omega and himself. "Nice, isn't it?"  
"Very nice," Sam had to agree and took another careful sip.  
  
Dean smirked. "So .. .about the other thing - I thought you maybe wanna come with?"  
Sam stole a curious glance at the older man. "Where?"  
"Shopping. There's a mall where we'd get everything you need. If you want to?" He watched the omega closely, trying to tell if he was going to say yes because he really wanted to, or because the omega thought Dean wanted him to say yes.  
Sam seemed to think – for a very long minute.  
"You could also stay here if that's okay with you? I mean ... It won't take long. Two hours or three tops." The ex-hunter decided to release the guy. After all he didn't need to come with. At least not yet. But he sure as hell needed some more clothes. Specially a warm jacket and boots, maybe even slippers for inside and definitely a bunch of socks and underwear.  
Sam seemed to be relieved at the suggestion. "I'd stay here – If that's okay?" He looked over at the ex-hunter, withstanding the urge to brush his hair back to get a better look at the man's facial expression. "I won't touch anything."  
Dean chuckled again, trying to hold the omega's gaze but Sam trained his look into the mug of steaming liquid.  
  
"You can touch everything - Just not my closet and wallet." Of course Dean didn't think that Sam'd go and rummage through his clothes or would take something from his wallet. It was meant as a joke, but the omega obviously didn't seem to get it, because he looked a bit stricken all of a sudden.  
"Just a joke, kiddo." He sighed. "I know you won't go on my stuff - But I mean it. What's mine is yours too. You wanna watch TV, you watch TV. You wanna switch the radio on, you do it."  
Sam sniffled at the mug and stole another glance at the ex-hunter.  
  
There was complete silence until Dean switched the TV on and thrust the remote into Sam's hands telling him to look if he'd find something he'd like to watch.  
Sam did.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Dean waited for Sam to be done in the bathroom and then got a shower himself. Though he didn't dress in his pyjamas just then (besides, he didn't really own pyjamas. It was more like worn out shirts and sweatpants he was used to sleep in).  
They said their good nights and while Sam went into his bedroom with a book about history, Dean slumped down on the couch and continued to watch Knight Rider, his phone by his side so he wouldn't miss Bobby's call or message which'd tell him to come over.  
  
An hour later, Dean had drifted off to sleep, the silenced phone he held loosely in his right hand seized up and started to vibrate to the tunes of Thunderstruck. He was awake the very next second and his eyes snapped open.  
First he blinked, not really knowing what had woken him, but the very moment he felt his phone vibrate he gripped it tightly and pressed the call-button without realizing it. Dean's eyes fluttered shut again, but he guided the phone to his ear and listened.  
  
His mind still clouded by the fine tendrils of sleep, he hummed into it when a gruff voice was heard and told him to come over. That Jim was there and that they had to talk.  
Dean hummed again and let his hand with the phone sink back on the couch, smacking his lips. He tipped his head back and rolled it in a half-circle to loosen his stiff muscles, before he opened his eyes again.  
The ex-hunter drew in a deep breath along with the scent of the omega and couldn't stop a pleased moan rolling from his throat. The man's odor was intoxicating, dammit. Not that he bothered in any way.  
This was Sam. HIS Sam. - Well, not exactly. But as long as he'd stay with him he'd be his.  
  
"What the hell?" he groaned and shook his head as if to clear his mind and get those ridiculous thoughts out of his head. Sam wasn't his – nor was he anyone else's. What was he even thinking?  
Dean pried his eyes further open and looked around, his gaze getting caught at the door to Sam's room. He immediately noticed, that the lights were out inside and the door closed.  
So he groaned as he rose from the couch, ignoring the protesting pinch in his right hip and knee when he did so. It hurt. He knew it wouldn't stay with the pinches. It'd increase.  
He blew out another curse as he finally managed to stand up straighter and made his first step away from the couch. His leg gave in a bit. He cursed again.  
  
Dean had forgotten about taking the vicodin with dinner. Now his leg was having its revenge. He made another couple of steps and finally arrived in the kitchen, instantly reaching for the cupboard above the sink where he searched blindly for his pills, knocking the salt and pepper over and dusting the counter with it.  
  
"Fucking shit," he hissed through gritted teeth, holding himself off of yelling. Finally he found the small round bottle of pills and without looking at the label, he shook one of the pills onto his palm.  
Dean swallowed it dry. Soon it'd kick in – hopefully. He wasn't interested in a whole night of pain. Not knowing how to lay in his bed. Not knowing if he was supposed to turn left or right or stay on his back.  
The ex-hunter stuffed the bottle into the front-pocket of his jeans and limped back into the living room, where he took his jacket from the coat hanger. Dean made his way towards Sam's room after a short moment of hesitation and nudged it open a bit further, lurking inside.  
  
The omega lay on his side, curled up on himself under the covers.  
Dean couldn't hide the satisfied smile on his lips – not even if he had wanted to.  
Content about it that Sam was fast asleep, he left his cabin and made his way to Bobby's house, which he entered without knocking, where familiar voices led him straight into the kitchen.  
"Hey," Dean muttered, running a hand through his hair.  
Both men looked up at him. Bobby was sitting at his table. Jim was seated on the couch with a cup of coffee in his hands. He didn't look good – as if he hadn't slept in a couple of days.  
On the coffee table was an opened folder, on top a couple of cut out articles from newspapers. He slumped down in the recliner on the opposite side of the couch and sighed heavily.  
"So ... that's not just some one-time-freaky-vamps kidnapping an omega. It happened before?" Dean eyed the both men curiously.  
  
Bobby nodded.  
Jim cleared his throat.  
"It's been goin' on since quite some time. I've found about twelve similar cases over the past seven years," Pastor Jim explained calmly.  
"Survivors?" Dean trained his gaze at the Pastor.  
  
Jim shook his head and bowed forward over the open file from where he took out a stack of pictures. He laid them out on the small table, showing them to Dean.  
"All dead. Ripped apart. Their intestines all over the place," he kept on telling. "Different population levels. Different ages. Different states. Alphas, Betas and Omegas."  
Dean inched closer to the table to get a better look at the photos. "But all female," he murmured absently. "Sam's not though." He looked up to meet the pastor's gaze.  
"Not completely at least." Bobby threw in from the offside.  
  
Both men whipped their heads towards him.  
Then there was thoughtful silence.  
"You're right ... he's not," Jim muttered.  
  
"So ... how come you think that Sam's a surviving vic of whatever's goin' on?" That about summed it up for Dean. "I'm sure they didn't mistake him as female, huh?" He grinned. "They gotta be blind otherwise."  
What actually made him think about something else too. "How many of each?" he asked curiously and turned his attention back at Jim.  
Bobby's eyebrows rose. "Alphas, Betas and Omegas you mean?"  
"Yep." Dean pulled the file from the table and seated it into his lap where he started to skip through it.  
  
He then gathered the photos and snatched a pen from Bobby's desk, starting to mark the photos with As, Bs and Os and the dates they had been found killed. It took him a total of nine minutes to do so. Then he laid the pictures on the table again.  
"They first tried it with an Alpha." He pursed his lips, taking in the crime-scene-photo closely. The female red-head alpha was found in a back-alley. Her guts everywhere. "Her heart's missin'. They didn't find her liver either," Dean murmured absently. Then he skipped further through the file, stopping at the autopsy report of the next victim. A petite small blonde girl. A beta. He went through the other ten. The other ten were omegas. "They don't have anything in common," he spoke to himself. "What'd they have in common?"  
  
Bobby huffed out a breath, rubbing over his face.  
"Except for the way their bodies look like. - I'd think it's been a werewolf or black dog ..." Bobby adjusted his ball cap. "I wouldn't have put those cases together either. I'd think the thing's wandered off." The grizzled hunter leaned back in his chair. "But now ..."  
"Now ... it's the same thing.", Dean continued. "... How'd Sam get away then? - Besides that we killed the vamp?"  
"We never talked to him about it. And he never told either us nor Jody." Jim said pensively. "We didn't push it. We thought it wouldn't really matter. But now it does."  
"How much time passed in between the deaths?" Dean looked up.  
"About five to nine months," Jim muttered, checking the dates on the pictures.  
  
Dean huffed out a breath. "Guess we've to talk to Sam then," he murmured, feeling pretty miserable about having to. Sam wasn't very talkative at all ... And talking about THIS would be specially difficult and maybe hurtful.  
"Lucky him you guys went to check on him and picked him up.", Jim sighed. "Got him back here. Maybe that was a good thing to do."  
Dean chewed on his lower lip. He so hoped Jim wasn't right. That this was just a mistake and that Sam was not involved in this in any way.

.... to be continued


	8. New Stuff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: First Physical Contact Ahead. If you can't stand cuddles, you better brace yourself. There'll be some. ;)

Fields Of Jasmine  
Chapter 8 ~ New Stuff

Dean chewed his lower lip. Overthinking this whole thing standing in the room like a giant elephant. His hunter-senses made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, telling him that there was something real bad going on here.  
"Who's behind this?" Dean asked pensively, rather talking to himself than Bobby or Jim. "You think vamps did this? Vampires don't do such a thing. It doesn't fit. Why did Savanger's body vanished? Where did the nest go?"  
Jim sighed.  
Bobby shrugged. "No clue."  
Dean kept taking in the photos of the victims. Something didn't fit. They might look the same from a hunter's view, but they somehow didn't. These weren't bodies mauled by a werewolf or any other creature. At least not in the common way. Sure, something had chewed on them. Had eaten their heart and liver ... or at least ripped it out. The first two bodies looked more mauled than the others. As if something hadn't worked out right or ... whatever.  
The omegas though ...  
"It just doesn't fit," he hissed through gritted teeth. He sighed and rubbed over his face. He was too fucking tired for this shit.  
"You’re tellin' me boy," Bobby sighed. "Better we hit the hay. Think about it tomorrow."  
Dean pursed his lips. Bobby was right. He couldn't think straight. Not with his hip and knee and certainly not when he was so tired.  
It had to wait until tomorrow.  
He had an omega in his cabin, who may or may not need him at the moment. But he couldn't know if he was needed right now or not. He couldn't. So he needed to get his ass back into his house and check on Sam.  
Specially with this new knowledge he couldn't leave him alone there. If there was something after him, he'd have to have a close eye on Sam (despite the fact, that the whole yard was protected by several spells and sigils).  
"You better head home, boy." Bobby took a sip of his cold coffee. "Get some sleep."  
Dean cleared his throat. "Yeah ..." He blinked up. "There's something else ... I ... I'd need my wage a few days earlier if that's okay?" He met his old friend's gaze in shame. Usually he dealt with that kind of problem just fine. Cutting back on food and such. But that wasn't possible with an omega to take care of. "I need some stuff for Sam. - A proper jacket and .. well ... boots that fit and-"  
Yeah, Dean Winchester felt kind of ashamed because he'd spent most of his money in the bar at town. To get drunk. To get more Vicodin from a dealer, since the doc wouldn't allow him to have more than two bottles a month.  
Bobby rose his hand to stop him. "Boy - Did I ever said no to you?" His tired eyes were trained on Dean's. "Of course you can. I've something stashed away too - You'll need it anyway."  
The ex-hunter was rather surprised at the suggestion to use Bobby's saved up stash of money from the counter top. He knew the old man was saving up for a brand new engine for the Ford Mustang in the shed at the west-side of his house. So far the grizzled mechanic had managed to restore the old vehicle partly. But some parts were still missing – among them the engine.  
"Bobby – It was-" Once again he got stopped by Bobby rising his hand. "If it wouldn't have been you, I've driven to Columbus to check on him. With the very same intent as you had. Trust me. I've called Caleb. He'll help out at the garage for some time." He winked at Dean with a slight smile. "When you think that Sam's ready to get along on his own for a couple of hours, you can come back, Dean."  
The old man had always been more understanding than his dad. Of course, John hadn't been a bad man. He had done what he could for Dean to keep him safe. Sadly, keeping Dean safe hadn't been the same like other parents would've done. John had trained his son like a drill sergeant ...  
"You mean it?" Dean looked up, his pupils blown wide by the Vicodin.  
"Did I ever not mean something I told you?" He smiled warmly. "Now get your ass back home. - Get some sleep. You'll need it."  
Dean smiled back at him. What else could he do? Saying Thank you wouldn't cut it anyway.  
They said their goodbyes then and Dean collected the files and photos from the table. "I'll work through it tomorrow. There'll sure be some time in between ... stuff."  
Bobby smirked. He didn't seem as confident as Dean about that but let it slip anyway.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

The next morning came early.  
After Sam visited the bathroom about ten times during the night. Okay, ten times was an overstatement; it was three times at most. Of course, Sam had tried to be silent and not disturb Dean's sleep, but it was no use. Dean was a hunter after all – even when he wasn't anymore. And he wasn't used to having someone else around him ... sneaking through the house at night ...   
So he woke each damn time.  
Each fucking damn time he thought he'd fall back asleep, Sam sneaking into his bathroom taking a freaking piss.  
Not to mention that Dean looked miserable the next morning.  
Not to mention that Sam looked miserable too. Though he was the first one up, sitting on the couch, his blanket over his lap and feet and a book in hands. His head snapped up, when Dean emerged from his bedroom short after seven in the morning, completely sleepdrunken. He gazed at the omega and caught his gaze briefly.  
"You awake already?" he grumbled as he walked past him and towards the kitchen.  
His first stop was the coffee maker. There was no Winchester without coffee in the morning. No Winchester at all. So he needed coffee.  
Did he already mention that he had to have a coffee first?  
"Coffee," he breathed hoarsely as he put water into the machine.  
When it was finally done and the pot filled with black gold, he filled two mugs with it. To one he added three spoons of sugar and a lot of milk. He sauntered back into the living room and sat down beside Sam, holding the golden brown liquid in the black mug towards him.  
"Thanks," Sam mumbled, taking it gratefully.  
They then drunk their coffee in silence.  
Then there was even more silence. Each one staring at nothing.  
"You even sleep, Sammy?" he murmured.  
The omega looked up at him. Again taking care that most of his scar was hidden behind long hair, since Dean sat at his very side. "A bit."  
Dean was able to scent his lie.  
Sam knew that Dean knew. Just like that.  
"Liar." Dean mumbled as he got up, taking the mug away from Sam in a swift motion. "What'd you want for breakfast?"  
"I'm okay." Sam jumped up too, as if the couch was burning hot all of a sudden.  
Dean gave him a sideways glance. "Okay. Breakfast it is. - I've pancakes or eggs'n bacon? Omelet?" He thought for a moment. Though being tired made it pretty hard to do so. "And definitely more coffee," he added softly.  
Sam hurried up to get before Dean and blocked his way before he could even enter the kitchen. "I'll do it, okay?" He stared at the flabberghasted ex-hunter with big eyes. "I'll make you breakfast. I can do that. I ... I can." Sam swallowed thickly.  
The alpha eyed him curiously.  
Sam appeared tense. His scent was rather confusing at that point.  
Dean rose both hands, showing the omega his palms. "Look." He exhaled. "I understand if you feel like you have to make it up to me. But you don't. Okay?" His eyebrows were closer to his hair-line than ever before. His emerald-green orbs huge as he tried to sympathize his words with his look.  
Sam swallowed again and cast his look down. Now it was him who looked confused and maybe a bit upset too. And sad. And ... disappointed.  
Dean blew out a long breath. "Look. I just mean ... That ... if you want we can do it together, okay?"  
What else was he supposed to say anyway?  
Sam's eyes snapped up and caught the ex-hunter's. "Yeah?" He looked surprised and somehow relieved.  
"Yeah ..." Dean sighed again, rubbing over his eyes and then his whole face. When his hand disappeared from his face, there was a small smile. "Yeah. Of course."  
Sam beamed back at him. For a moment all insecurity forgotten.  
Once in front of the oven, he asked Sam if he'd pour them some more coffee into the mugs while he gathered two pans, a spatula, eggs, flour, milk and bacon.  
He mixed eggs, milk, flour, butter baking soda and sugar into a medium sized bowl and stirred in it with a beater until it looked smooth. Sam watched him all the while. Dean then put the pans on the oven and heated them up. He then put some oil into it and showed Sam the first one, so that he could do the others.  
Meanwhile, Dean cut the bacon into fine strips and whisked the remaining eggs with salt, a shot of milk in another bowl. He put the thin strips of bacon into the pan and fried them until they were little golden brown sprinkles and poured the eggs over them.  
They worked silently beside each other.  
Sam stole glances at Dean, when he thought the ex-hunter didn't notice.  
But Dean did.  
They put the pans into the sink and the plates with the hot food on the table. Dean gave the omega the maple-syrup and butter and he took two forks with him to the dark wooden table. When they were seated, Dean handed Sam the fork.  
"Dig in." Dean beamed at him and forked up the scrambled eggs with bacon-sprinkles and hummed at the first bite.  
Sam eyed the ex-hunter a bit curiously with the fork in his hands. He was a bit taken aback that they didn’t have their own plates.  
"Savin' the dishes, Sammy." He grinned cockily. "C'mon. You need some more fat on your hips. Can't have you look like that. People are gonna think I let you starve." He shoved another fork with eggs into his mouth.  
Sam extended his hand and ripped off a piece of one of the pancakes off. Once in his mouth, he chewed the sweet homemade food slowly.  
Dean scraped flakes of butter off the remaining cube and put them on the pancakes. The butter immediately started to melt and soak into the small flat cakes. He added maple syrup and sprinkled it carelessly over the pancakes.  
"Tastes even better," Dean murmured with a sly grin. "C'mon."  
Sam looked from the pancakes to Dean and back again. Then he stole a glance at the eggs.  
He watched Dean some more, before he copied what the alpha did. Sam shoved eggs onto his fork. They were perfectly soft crumbs, melting on his tongue, gliding down his throat smoothly.  
Sam groaned, his eyes fluttered shut.  
"I think I've never had this before." Sam frowned. High likely he just couldn't remember.  
"Don't think too hard." He smirked at the omega, sensing what was going on in that brain of his right now.  
Which actually seemed weird to Dean. How could he (probably) SENSE what Sam was thinking? Anyway, he pushed it aside for the peace of his own mind.  
Sam blinked up, his lips puckered, thought for a moment and seemed to decide that the alpha was right. By thinking that Dean was right, he started to feel a bit less irritated. The omega huffed out a breath and started to mix up the eggs with the pancakes and whipping them through the butter and maple syrup.  
There weren't any leftovers when they were done.  
They cleaned up the two pans and the dishes. They got another cup of coffee and Dean switched the coffee maker on again for another pot. Sam watched him cautiously.  
Dean turned around and leaned against the counter beside Sam, his fingertips thrumming in the rhythm of Back in Black. Until he stopped.  
Sam kept on leaning beside him, obviously waiting for the alpha to say something – or do something.  
"We need to talk, Sam," Dean finally spoke up. "You're not the only one, you know? We think there were others like you, so ... I thought maybe you could answer some questions." He stole a tentative glance at the omega.  
Sam's cheeks turned red. "Yea?" he croaked out.  
"Questions about ... about the people who had you." Dean could hear the unspoken question. "If ... If you are one of them and you got away ... then you're the only person who'll be able to help us get to the bottom of this."  
Sam nodded, ducking his head. "You're hunters, right?" he asked, biting his lower lip right after. The question had come out of his mouth before he could stop himself from even thinking it.  
Dean cocked an eyebrow. Rather surprised.  
"Yeah. I know there's such a thing," Sam continued after he didn't get an answer. "I know there are monsters too - I was kidnapped by them. Of course I know they are real." Now he looked up blinking through his long bangs at Dean before he looked back down. "I know that vampires are very real. I know that ... that these things are real too. Four legs. Black. Look like a mixture of some kind of cat, lion and dog ... these ... they're ..." Sam sighed. "But ... I don't know about other monsters. I ... But I guess they're real too though I haven't seen them yet." Sam cleared his throat.  
Dean nodded, staring at Sam as if he had grown an extra head.  
"I heard Henry talk about hunters. That's why I know." Sam clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth and sighed. "But I didn't hear him talk about other ... things ... at all. Ever. I think he was very careful about that." His voice was soft. Barely audible.  
How could that guy stay so extraordinary calm about this? Other humans – humans he had met so far – were freaking the hell out about this. Even when it was just about an orb or a cold spot ... or a ghost.  
"What do you need me to tell you?" Sam stole a glance at the older man.  
"Why don't we sit down for that, huh?" Dean gestured towards the living room.  
The omega sucked in a shuddering breath and nodded.  
They then went into the living room and sat down on the couch. After all there weren't a lot places to go in the small house. Sam put a good amount of distance between them, not wanting to sit too close to the alpha.  
Sam reminded himself, that he needed to think before he was opening his mouth to answer them, so not to reveal something he didn't want to accidently.  
Dean cleared his throat, taking in the omega's profile. The blank expression on his face hidden by strands of hazelnut-brown dark hair, hiding most of the scar.  
There was a file on the coffee table before them. Dean had removed the pictures of the victims before, so Sam didn't have to see them when he'd have him look into it.  
"That's our information about the others," Dean explained calmly as he reached forwards and took the file into his hands. "Twelve. We want to figure out if ... if you're one of them since there are some similarities, so ... everything you can tell me about your time with the nest would help."  
Dean handed him the file then and Sam took it with shaky hands. The omega stole a glance at his host before he flipped the first page open.  
There was a list of names and addresses. All female ones. Beside them were As, Bs and Os drawn with a thick black pen.  
Sam snapped it shut and leaned back, but kept the file in his lap.  
"They never told me what they held me for," he started softly. "And I didn't lie when I said those things back then either." He sighed. "Henry Savanger wasn't a nice person. He made me do ... some things." Okay, turned out he couldn't hide from the subject if he was supposed to tell the alpha why they had him – or kept him. Or whatever. He realized that just then. If the hunters would start to dig around – and they would dig around – they'd find out. And then they'd be pissed. Maybe pissed enough to hurt him ... "You should read the file Sheriff Mills gave to me." Sam figured that was the easiest way to get over with. "The reason why I was in this facility and why I let them do ... THIS. And ... then I'll answer whatever else you wanna know."  
Dean eyed the man curiously and nodded, his lips pursed and twitching.  
Their gazes locked for a short moment, Sam telling him with a single look that he was nervous. His scent shifted into something more ... fearful.  
The omega then got up and walked into his bedroom, where he took the file from his backpack. Sam bit his lower lip as he eyed the –future dooming – papers in his hands. If Savanger's actions were anything to go by, he'd be so screwed. Maybe he could at least retain some of his dignity and not tell them at all about the creature that man had locked him up with every other month or so – always about the time he'd started to get sick. He could leave those incidents out.  
A heavy sigh fell from his lips and then made himself walk back into the living room, feeling the alpha's eyes all over him.  
Sam felt like the breakfast was forming into a heavy stone in his stomach, making him nauseous.  
Sam laid the file on the table where Dean could easily reach it and withdrew into the furthest corner on the opposite side of the couch. He pulled his legs up to his chest and hugged them, staring down at the grey fabric of his sweatpants.  
He didn't see the grim expression on the ex-hunter's face, but he could practically smell the change in his mood as he flipped the file open and started to read the very first page.  
There was a picture of Sam on the second page from about a year and a half ago, when he had himself admitted. His face was fuller. He seemed healthier. And there was a mischievous spark in those eyes he hadn't the opportunity to see yet. This person in the picture seemed so very different from the one that sat now on the other end of the couch.  
He looked confident and self-secure. Sure a bit troubled, but nothing that led on that he had big issues. Physically or mentally. Dean stole a glance at Sam before he kept on reading.  
"A psychic," Dean murmured to himself skipping a paragraph with some psychological bullshit about traumatizing events in the omega's past and how they had to cause his liable psychological state.  
He read two more pages of the doctor's diagnosis and how they reasoned about the why's with a buttload of medical words, before he looked up, his gaze trained at the younger man.  
"I know you don't remember but ..." Dean's voice was hoarse. "I don't think that you were crazy - There're others like you, you know that, right?" Both his eyebrows rose.  
Sam only shook his head, not daring to look up to see the other man's face, or the emotions or disgust he may find there.  
"Sam - You were a psychic. Some of those .. those hallucinations ... those things may really have happened." His eyes narrowed, trying to figure out what was going on in the man's head right now. "Have you read this?"  
Sam nodded again. "Yeah,", he answered. "I have."  
Dean watched him for some time, before he continued reading with a queasy feeling in his stomach.  
There had been a fire one night. On the floor Sam's room had to be. He had just came out of surgery and wasn't even there yet, when they started to evacuate the whole wing. And that had been when Sam had disappeared along with two of the nurses.  
The whole wing had burned down to ashes.  
They had figured that Samuel Tristan Harvelle died in the fire along with those two nurses.  
Dean huffed out a breath and closed his eyes while he rubbed a hand over his face.  
"I didn't feel good the first time I woke up. I didn't knew where I was and why I was there. There were two men in hospital gowns, setting an I.V. into my lower arm. Short after I was out again. When I woke up the next time I was in a dark room with someone sitting at my bed. Henry Savanger. I was alone most of the time at first until I was able again to move around and ask questions. Henry told me that nothing of this would matter anymore. I'd be his." Sam sniffed, his fingers starting to toy with the fabric of his sweatpants. "I told him I'm no one's - And he'd beat the crap out of me. Just because he could. Because it wasn't my place to talk and that I'd need to learn how to behave and ... and things. After that ... I don't know how long ... I've tried to get away for the first time. That's where he got me with the knife in my face." Sam's voice broke. "He showed me my place. Again. He wouldn't even say something." He sucked in a shuddering breath, trying to blink tears away, but it was no use. Once freed, they'd run down his face mercilessly. "Those ... those visions - He sometimes would give me a vial to drink and told me that I'd have to recall what had happened in them. That ... that he needed to know." He sniffed again, wiping his wet cheeks into his sweatpants. "He knew how to make me remember. But they were only pieces of something. Henry said I'd need those abilities or else it wouldn't work."  
Then there was silence. Dean wasn't sure if he was supposed to ask or just wait for Sam to continue.  
"You still have them? You've ... those visions?" he finally asked.  
Sam shook his head. "Sometimes I've dreams. But they're too ... too disturbing. Mostly I don't remember them at all. I just wake up during the night," he explained, his voice vibrating with emotions.  
There was silence again. Dean could sense the need of Sam for a break. That it was enough for the omega.  
"You know what was important about them?" But he needed to know, so that Jim'd know what questions to ask, where to look, when he'd arrive at the first victim's family to get more information about her.  
Sam shook his head again. "Thirteen," he mumbled. "Thirteen's important. That's all I know. And blood. White glowing eyes in the darkness. Thirteen pairs of white eyes and snarls ... and fire." He sniffed.  
Now he looked up, catching the ex-hunter's unreadable gaze. "What're you gonna do with me now?"  
Taken aback by the omega's question, Dean was stuttered and ... shocked at the same time. He opened his mouth to say something, but shut it again. At the fourth try, he finally managed to come up with something intelligent.  
"We'll hang out in front of the TV. Then make lunch. Then I'll head out to get you some clothes ... and then we'll see what well be up to later." He made himself smile.  
Sam's head snapped up, red-rimmed wet eyes staring at him flabberghasted. "You ..." He hiccupped. "You're ... gonna let me stay? You're ... not gonna lock me away?" Thousands of new ideas and thoughts broke down over him like ha breaking dam.  
There were too many emotions seeping into the omega's scent. Too many for him to make out a single one. "What? You think we'd do' what? Kill you? Tie you down and leave you to rot somewhere?" It was the lightness in the ex-hunter's words which made him sound amused.  
Sam blinked. "Yeah."  
Dean huffed out a breath.  
"You're hunters," he muttered.  
"Yeah. We are - And I learned that there's not only black and white. You've had visions? Okay. And even if you still have them, that doesn't make you a bad person, does it?" Dean shifted, so to take away the strain from the aching muscles in his hip and thigh. "You haven't killed anyone, have you?" It was only a rhetorical question, but Dean had to notice that Sam didn't hear it as one.  
The omega's face changed, a row of emotions playing over it in a matter of seconds.  
"I ... I don't know ..." he breathed, the wheels in his head starting to jump into motion. "What if I did?"  
Dean only shook his head. "Don't think so. Omegas rarely hurt others- It's not in their genetics." ... except for Cooper's. His mind darkened at that particular thought. The omega who had killed his mother. Left his father to what he had turned into. Dooming his family's fate.  
Before his thoughts could travel any further, he cleared his throat.  
The sound had barely came over his lips, when the giant omega was on him. Long lanky arms wrapping around his neck. A wet face buried in his shoulder. A ridiculously soft mop of hair tickling his nose.  
Dean froze, his eyes wide, pupils blown. The omega so close, his scent so unmistakably intense all of a sudden, that his breath caught in his throat. He had thought about a lot ways this would end up, but surely not with the guy all over him, practically in his lap, squeezing the living shit out of him. Was he trying to smother him with his body? Was it some kind of attack?  
"It's okay." Dean swallowed thickly, trying to breathe through his mouth, so not to make his mind even more foggy due the sensitively sweet smell the omega's pheromones were causing.  
But Sam wouldn't back off.  
Dean petted the man's back awkwardly, not quite sure what to do with this situation. Until a heartbreaking sob was blown into his shoulder. His hands rested on the younger man's back now, holding him lightly, until a hiccup – so emotional, so hurt, so vulnerable – made the ex-hunter close his eyes.  
He couldn't but envelop the younger man into a gentle hug, rubbing up and down over his back while he cried into Dean's shoulder, soaking his shirt wet with salty tears.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Eventually Sam had cried himself to exhaustion and drifted off, still seated against Dean, his chest resting on the ex.hunter's chest, listening to his heart. The alpha had fumbled out the blanket from underneath them and had wrapped it around the omega's form.  
A content sigh fell from the ex-hunter's lips, feeling Sam's weight against him, his warmth, the gentle rise and fall of his chest.  
Dean didn't dare to move despite the uncomfortable ache in his hip and knee and the ache in his lower back the awkward angle he was sitting in caused.  
What had he gotten himself into?  
Well, he couldn't deny that he somehow liked this. That it felt good and reassuring and weirdly calming to have the omega this close to him. Somehow it felt as if this was right. That the both of them were in the right place, at the right time, right now.  
It kind of frightened the ex-hunter though, that it was an omega he started to feel connected to.  
"Ridiculous," he mumbled, catching himself sniffing the younger man, letting his scent soak his mind into a blissful blurring mist of contentment.  
Dean knew that Bobby and Jim were waiting for his call to tell them what he'd found out. Bad thing, that his phone was still on the night stand beside his bed.  
No matter how bad he wanted Sam to not wake, he needed to make a call – and visit the bathroom. Dean dragged himself slowly and carefully out under the omega, laying him down onto the couch and pulled the blankets over him.  
Sam made a disapproving sound, but snuggled back into the blanket, his fingers wrapping around the corner of it.  
A last glance at Sam, and Dean went into the bathroom and then to his bed, where he sat down, taking his phone. Bobby was already in the garage – at least he was supposed to be. So he tried it on his mobile.  
Bobby picked up after the sixth ring. "Dean?"  
The clanking of metal against metal was heard.  
"Sam's a psychic - At least he was until the surgery," Dean said, his voice husky and shushed. "Savanger wanted him to remember the visions he had. But Sam can't remember. He says they're just pieces." He sighed, washing a hand over his face, but it didn't help to get rid of the mist that the man's scent had caused. "Something about thirteen pairs of white glowing eyes in the darkness and fire."  
There was a huff on the other end of the line and the rustling of clothes. "I think ... I think he wasn't telling me everything though." Dean thought for a moment. "I think he's afraid that we're gonna hurt or kill him if he does." It was not more than a feeling that made him think that.  
There was a long-drawn exhale. "Twelve vics – and the thirteenth survived," he mumbled. Then there was a pause. "You told him we won't, right?"  
Dean huffed out an annoyed breath. "Of course." Well, not exactly like that, but he figured he kinda did. "Told him I'd go and pick up some stuff for him after lunch."  
There was another beat of silence. "Good. You need me to come over?"  
Dean thought for a moment. "Nah. Guess we're good. Maybe later? We'll have leftovers from your Spaghetti Bolognese." He smirked a bit.  
"Sure thing - Caleb's here anyway. There're only two other cars. Got the Henson's Pick Up done." Bobby's voice was neutral.  
"I'll call Jim. See you later."  
"See ya'."  
The line went dead.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Sam awoke to the soft fabric of the couch to his right half of his face and the warm blanket around his body. He felt content. Warm. Safe. In the embrace of the alpha's musky scent enveloping him and his mind.  
Dean sensed the omega's awaking without being even in the same room. He was in the kitchen the pots of yesterday's lunch before him. Bobby got three plates from the cupboard from above the sink, three forks and spoons.  
He stilled in the middle of putting noodles onto one of the plates, his pupils dilating and pulling together so fast that no one could've seen it. Dean put the noodles on the plate, laid the forks aside and turned around, gazing into the living room on instinct.  
The form on the bed didn't even stir, but he could tell that Sam was awake. No clue how, but he could.  
"Sam awake?" Bobby asked without looking up as he took over Dean's forks and the noodles.  
Dean hummed, his gaze completely focused on the couch. He strode towards the couch and bowed over the omega whose eyes were still closed.  
"Lunch?" Sam asked sleepily.  
Dean hummed again, finding his hand already moving over the man's form, only millimeter above the blanket and sending shivers through Sam's body.  
"Leftovers, Sammy," he informed the omega. "You hungry?"  
A tingly sensation coursed through his body at the way Dean called him by his pet-name. Sam gave a nod, his eyes fluttering open slowly. "A bit."  
Dean straightened up and Sam sat up right away as if Dean was pulling him with his motion. "Good."  
Their gazes locked over the short distance, when Sam reminded himself to cover his face somehow.  
The three of them ate in comfortable silence. Sam ate most of his serve.  
Everything of the Spaghetti Bolognese which weren't eaten wandered into the garbage-basket under the sink.  
Dean then left with the money Bobby gave him, leaving them in the cabin.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Sam smiled. And he chuckled.  
It was a stupid thing for a grown up guy to like watching Tom & Jerry. But it was also freeing. It was the need to feel carefree for a bit, not to think about the seriousness of life and his situation.  
He hadn't lied. But he hadn't told the whole truth either.  
His gaze traveled towards the file of the victims and back at the TV. So far he hadn't dared to look inside again. He couldn't. If those people were dead then ... why wasn't HE dead too? If there had been others like him – if he was involved into this too – how could he possibly get away like that?  
Sam sighed, his gaze, during his thoughts, landed back at the file, not even listening to the cat & mouse play anymore.  
Sam rubbed over his eyes and face and pinched the bridge of his nose. Then he reached for the remote and turned the TV off. Then he took the file.  
Bobby watched him from the kitchen where he sat at the table, sipping whiskey from a tumbler and reading through Sam's file. He was taking notes about the things he thought could be important. Then he moved to set up Dean's laptop on the kitchen table and do his own research about the victims. He might find something useful besides Jim who'd talk to their family members.  
The more, the better.  
When he heard the TV being turned off, he gazed up over his glasses and lurked into the living room, watching Sam taking the file of the victims. Bobby swallowed a disapproving groan and tilted his head a bit.  
He hadn't been okay with it, that Dean'd let him have the file and read it. Then again ... the omega wouldn't have a normal life ever again anyway, so why not seal the pact right the fuck now when there was no getting away anyway.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Dean was at a loss.  
He had figured this'd be easier. The boots Sam had were 11 and what he had been checking out so far, Sam's feet had to be a 12 or 12.5. So he took a pair of the same model twice. Once in 12 and once in 12.5, hoping that one of them would fit. The other one he'd bring back as soon as he'd be in town again.  
Getting clothes seemed way easier. Jeans and sweatpants. Two hoodies, a stack of shirts and button downs. Socks and some freaking underwear.  
Though, that were the basics, Dean figured. And he wanted to get him something real nice too. Something that wasn't made of cheap fabric or something like that. So he went into the mart and strode through the isles, not quite sure what to buy for a male omega who didn't remember what he liked and not liked.  
Until he passed a display with silver bracelets. Actually they seemed as if they were made to be carried by women. Though he was tempted to take the one with silver ivy ranks and leaves embedded into dark-brown leather.   
So it didn't look that feminine at all ... then again ... nope. That was too much. Maybe Sam'd even think he wanted something from him, or that he had to repay Dean.  
Besides ... they weren't even friends yet, were they? So why think about buying that guy jewelry? Was he that screwed up?  
Dean sniffled unconsciously, trying to gather some of the omega's scent that seemed to fade rapidly now. Or at least, it started to become too little for Dean.  
He tore his gaze away from the display and moved on, deciding that some chocolate would do and that it didn't have to be a bracelet. Then, as he found himself in the aisle with sweets, he found himself right in the middle of another dilemma.  
What'd Sam prefer? He looked like a nougat-creme type. Or peanut butter? Or plain milk-chocolate?  
Dean huffed out a breath. After spending more than half an hour in front of all those sweet stuff, he decided he'd get peanut butter cups, Oreos, milk-chocolate, some O-Henrys, twizzlers and Nerds. What made him think that he may needed Pop Tarts and Lucky Charms too.  
In the end he had half a cart full of sweets, chips, snips and other junk food and paid a total of 6,835 bucks.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Bobby had thrown some logs into the central heater in the small barn that was right behind the house. When he came back in, Sam was in the kitchen, preparing another pot of coffee.  
"You hungry?" Bobby asked as he rounded the table to get on his chair.  
Sam shook his head, mumbling a soft "No thanks".  
"You know you can help yourself, right?" He frowned.  
Sam nodded. "Yeah, thank you."  
Bobby couldn't quite tell what it was that made him think that the omega wouldn't get something for himself when he felt like it. It was only that small nagging feeling deep down in his gut that Sam wouldn't do that. So he'd wait for another half an hour before he'd get some of the cookies he had stored at the very top of the cupboard above the sink, where Dean wouldn't think to look for.  
The ex-hunter barely kept things like that in the house, since he didn't do his training anymore – at least not as intensive. At least not since he had stopped hunting.  
It wasn't like Dean even knew about them anyway. Bobby had bought them when he first came back to the salvage and get Dean's house prepared and had stashed them up there in case the omega'd need some sugar.  
Everyone needed something sweet from time to time, right?  
Okay, there may were already five cookies missing, but that was just because Bobby had gotten really hungry while he cleaned the house and after all he deserved it, didn't he?  
The grizzled man glanced at the clock on the wall thoughtfully. It was short past four.  
"He said it'd take two to three hours," Sam spoke up quietly, watching the black liquid run in a slender stream into the glass-pot under the filter.  
The omega didn't look up, but his face changed a bit and the corners of his lips turned down slightly. Then he looked up to face the grizzled hunter.  
"You don't have to stay - I'll be good," he added. "I'm not going to touch anything in here - Only the coffee-maker and the cupboards." He blinked huge hazel-green eyes at the older man.  
"I know that you'd be fine. But I promised to stay until he's back." He gave him a small smile that seemed rather troubled than reassuring. It wasn't just because they didn't want to leave the omega out under their watch in case he'd have a mental breakdown or something. It was also because the possibility that this wasn't over yet and that someone'd attempt to kill him.  
"So, you think there's still someone out there who'll go after me?" Sam's eyes narrowed curiously.  
Bobby frowned. "There might be." He stared back suspiciously. Was the kid a mind-reader or something?  
"But ... those others. They ... they were all female." It wasn't lost on him that he may could be abducted by the same people those women were, because he was what he was. A gynander. Intersex. Hermaphrodite. But he needed to hear it. Otherwise he'd think it was pretty unlikely to take him for a woman since he looked more like a man after all. He may have a body-part too much, but that didn't mean that he didn't feel like he was mostly male anyway.  
Though, sometimes he found himself lost staring at dresses in the newspapers instead of the women who wore them. He also liked the pages where they'd show those girls in underwear, but rather because of the nice lace instead of boobs.  
Sure, he hadn't had a lot of chances to get his hands on such magazines, but the ones Dean was hiding in the cupboard beneath the sink in the bathroom were very interesting. He had even caught himself thinking of how it'd be if he had boobs himself. Which was rather weird, wasn't it?  
He wasn't supposed to feel or think that way - Specially because he was already a freak and things like that would make him look like a complete pervert, right? And then again, he couldn't help it either. He knew he wasn't supposed to think how it'd be to wear a dress, or panties or stockings or ... whatever.  
He could remember someone telling him, that it wasn't bad and that it was completely normal for someone like him. That he didn't just have a penis, but also a vagina and female genitals and that that meant that there was a bunch of female hormones raging in his body, demanding to be seen, to be felt.  
Hell, if only he could remember who had been telling him that bullshit. He'd kill him. Things like that would make it so much harder to get through life. He wondered how it had been earlier, when he hadn't have the surgery yet. If he had felt like that too ... Maybe he had hoped that he would forget about those "urges" he felt?  
"Yes, they were all female," Bobby seemed hesitant. "And a part of you's female too. Maybe we're wrong, you know? - it's just ... for your safety, Sam." He sighed audibly. "And now for the cookies, boy." His blue eyes lit up as he moved over beside Sam and reached up on top of the cupboard where the white corner of something was standing over the edge. The grizzled mechanic tugged on it – and either if he wanted or even not – the very next moment it was raining cookies.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Dean hummed contently as he slammed the door of his baby shut and sauntered around the car to its trunk. He gazed at the cabin with a grin and popped the trunk open, tearing his gaze to the bags he had stuffed in there.  
Dean thought for a moment. Actually he didn't want to go more often than once to get all the bags inside ... it wouldn't be an easy task at all. So he had to figure something out. The alpha chewed his bottom-lip absently while he thought, thinking about the weight and sizes of the shopping bags.  
He eventually managed to slip eight of the bags over his lower arms and took the easiest one in between his teeth.  
Dean banged the trunk shut and then made his way up the porch, breathing through his nose all the way. He made an annoyed sound when it was about to open the front door.  
He also managed that.  
Once inside, he slammed the door shut with his foot and mumbled something through the plastic lashes of the plastic bag in his mouth as he moved forward, on his way towards the couch, as he caught sight of movement to his left from the kitchen, short followed by a panicked "Sam!"  
The plastic bag fell from his mouth and the other ones slipped from his arms and hands as he let go of them, alarmed at the sudden stench of pure panic and fear coming from the one and only beta in the house.  
Dean spun around, his eyes wide as they caught sight of Robert Singer hovering over the omega in the middle of the kitchen-floor, one hand on the man's cheek, the other one on his chest.

... to be continued


	9. Jeans & Dresses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU TO GOTHPANDAOTAKU for being my amazing beta! :D

Fields OF Jasmine  
Chapter 9 ~ Jeans & Dresses

Dean rushed to their side and dropped to his knees, crushing a cookie with his left knee. It made him notice, in the back of his mind, that there were cookies everywhere, all over the kitchen-floor.  
"Shit. What happened?" Dean's fingertips found Sam's pulse on his neck.  
Sam was wheezing in a strangled breath, muscles taut and eyes wide open, staring into space. His pupils were dilated, the hazel barely visible, as his lips moved as if he was talking.  
Venire tredecim diabolus.  
White glowing eyes in the darkness were staring at him mockingly. Snarls and growls surrounded him, as he tore on his bindings, trying to free himself.  
There was this white hot pain building up in his stomach as if something was cutting through his guts, stabbing him. What had started as an ache, increased mercilessly until he felt himself on the verge of passing out.  
He yelled, crying outt in agony.  
Warm liquid was filling his mouth, the taste of copper and salt and Sam called it in his mind for what it was. Blood.  
Venire tredecim diabolus – his lips moved without him realizing. Crimson red spatters tainting his cheeks and chin as he dared to choke.  
Venire tredecim diabolus.  
And then there was a haze of white glowing dots surrounded by darkness and warmth filling his lungs as he breathed in more and more of the scarlet fluid.  
Venire tredecim diabolus.  
"Venire tredecim diabolus," Dean spoke along with the movements of the omega's lips. He had shooed Bobby away, so that he was leaning over Sam now; one hand braced against the wooden floor, the other one on his cheek, rubbing with his thumb along the omega's cheekbone.  
"C'mon, kiddo," Dean whispered.  
Sam's hands found their way into Dean's jacket, fisting it, holding onto it. He then blinked. Once, twice, three times and his pupils adjusted to the daylight illuminating the kitchen. The omega drew in a shuddering deep breath, feeling his rib-cage expand and then he exhaled slowly.  
Sam made a choking sound as his lips continued to move along the lines of venire tredecim diabolus a few times more, until he was able to say them out loud.  
"Venire tredecim diabolus," he murmured absently, his eyes starting to take in his surroundings, noticing where he was – where he had been before darkness had sucked him down.  
"What happened?" Dean caught the man's distressed gaze and held it. "Sam - Look at me," he demanded when the younger man attempted to continue to search the room he was in with his eyes.  
Sam obeyed, drawn into the here and now by the alpha's gravely voice. He gave him a jerky nod.  
"You okay?" Dean's eyes narrowed suspiciously.  
"We were about to get the cookies. The bastards slipped out of the bag and rained down on us and the next moment Sam was on the floor, seizing." Bobby answered the ex-hunter's question from before.  
"I'm ... I ... headache," Sam murmured, squeezing his eyes shut and opening them again. There was a stabbing pain behind his eyes and stomach-cramps. His left hand fluttered over his belly. "Am I okay?"  
Sam rose his hand and stared at it if something wasn't right, but there was nothing. Sam didn't see a damn thing, and yet it felt wrong. As if .. as if he was supposed to see something.  
"You're tellin' us, boy." Bobby got up with a grunt, his joints popping.  
"You'll be." Dean sat back on his heels. "You hurtin' somewhere else besides your head?"  
He shared a knowing look with Bobby, telling him without words that this wasn't coincidence, that this had to mean something. The way Sam had looked at his palm after brushing it over his lower belly, the horrified look all over his face and the utter terror in his eyes.  
Sam shook his head carefully. "Don't think so," he murmured, all power taken from his voice, as it sounded thin and barely there. He brushed over his belly again.  
Dean got up too and extended his hand. "C'mon. Up you go."  
Sam took it and pulled himself up with a groan, standing hunched over and not quite straight.  
"C'mon. Sit down first." Dean hooked his arm under Sam's and guided him to the kitchen table where he let him sit down on one of the chairs. He squatted down before Sam, nudged his knees apart and leaned forward, bracing his lower arms on his thighs as he looked up at him. "Better when you're sittin' down?"  
The omega nodded again. "Yeah."  
Bobby came with glass of water and a middle-sized white pill and handed it to Dean who made the younger man drink half of it to swallow with the pill before he let him sat it on the table. Though, he looked miserable and shaken.  
"What'd you see?" Dean asked, not quite sure how he was able to tell that Sam had seen something at all. He reached up and brushed Sam's hair out of his face and tugged it behind his ear where it wouldn't hide most of his face and specially not the scar.  
The omega made an attempt to pull away and reach up to brush the hair back to where it belonged to, but Dean shook his head while holding his gaze. He tried to not look there.  
"What'd you see?" he asked again, this time softer and less urgent.  
The omega drew in a breath, smelling the alpha's reassuring scent. It made him feel a bit safer and calmer again and it was obviously loosening his tongue along with it. Every fibre in his body told him not to tell the hunter, not to let them know what a crazy freak he was. But those big emerald eyes were looking warmly at him, promising him that it'd be good, that it'd be okay.  
"I don't know ... It was weird." Sam thought for a long moment, trying to latch onto those memories before they would fade away. Before he would make them fade away. "White glowing eyes staring at me," he whispered softly. "Snarling and growling. And ... anger. I could smell anger and ... and something old and ... I know there was someone else there, but I couldn't see it, or them. It was too dark. I ..." His voice broke. "It hurt and ... then I was drowning ... and then I was here again." He cast his look down, not wanting to see Dean's nor Bobby's expression.  
Dean leaned a bit closer and tipped the younger man's chin up again, making him face him.  
"Venire tredecim diabolus," Sam whispered, looking anxiously at Dean and then up at Bobby who was standing mere feet away. "What does that mean? Venire tredecim diabolus?"  
The alpha's jaw was set, his eyes seeming to see a threat instead of Sam. "The thirteen devils are coming," he answered calmly. "That's what you said."  
Bobby washed a hand over his face. "That ain't soundin' like fun, boys." He adjusted his ball cap.  
The omega's eyes teared up and he thrust his jaw forward as his throat started to close up on him.  
"What does that mean?" He looked from Bobby back at Dean. "What does that mean?" he asked again, this time addressing the ex-hunter.  
"We'll find out, okay?" Dean tried to smile, but failed miserably. How was he supposed to reassure someone that everything would be okay when he didn't know if it was? "You mentioned something ... animalistic ... when we were talking about what had happened to you- Do you remember?"  
Sam gave him a jerking nod, the fingers of his left hand intertwined with the ones of his right. "Yeah," he breathed.  
"So we need to know if this ... animal ... was the same you saw in your vision, Sammy," Dean spoke softly but firmly. "It's important."  
Sam felt a comfortable warmth spread in his lower belly at the nickname the alpha had given him and it made him smile a bit too. It made his racing thoughts calm down. Yeah, maybe Sammy sounded like he was a chubby six year old, but when Dean said it ... it sounded different. It was comfort.  
"I don't know. I didn't see them there," he answered honestly. "Henry's pet didn't have white eyes. – They’d been black."  
Dean huffed out a breath.  
Bobby sighed. "I've some old books in my library – Maybe you'd like to skip through them? See if you can look into them? See if you find Savenger's pet?"  
Sam nodded again, only hesitantly though. Even if he didn't want to ... he wanted to help. He needed to help.  
"Thank you." Bobby smiled at him and then looked around the kitchen. Then he waved his hand at the cookies plastering the floor. "Guess that's it with milk and chocolate-chip-cookies," he muttered.  
Dean grinned. "Got Oreo's." Dean's grin widened. "We'll clean that mess up later." He looked from Bobby to Sam, making him look up again. "What'd you say? We show you how you're supposed to eat Oreos the proper way." He wiggled his eyebrows.  
Bobby grumbled something about crumbs and mess and that he was supposed to act like a grown up. But Dean didn't seem to listen.  
Sam chuckled and sniffed. "Yeah?"  
"Yeah - And then you're gonna try on your new shoes and clothes." He pursed his lips. "That's an idea?"  
The omega nodded, with a smile tugging on his lips.  
Dean squeezed the younger man's thigh and petted it then. "Good. Then lets’ go and see where I put the Oreos."  
They stood up and moved into the living room. Bobby got the milk from the fridge and Dean put the two giant bags with sweets onto the kitchen table. He rummaged through them until he had found the Oreos and went into the living room, where Bobby and Sam were already sitting on the couch.  
Dean eyed the file of the victims curiously and then at Bobby, who shook his head.  
"I read through it," Sam said calmly and reached forward to close it. "They died five to nine months after their abductions, but not all of them were gone for so long. Three of them turned up a couple of months later at the doorsteps of their families and were killed later on." Sam didn't look at either of them. "But the two who where gone for nine months didn't come home before they turned up mauled."  
Bobby huffed out a breath. "It's not written in the reports."  
"No. But it'd make sense. Ten of them were found by family-members or close to their homes. The other two didn't and they were found by a jogger and one by a hunter. And there had only been one death since I was taken. Six months ago."  
"That's weird," Dean muttered.  
Sam took a sip from the milk and leaned back on the couch. Suddenly he felt bone-tired and exhausted. "If I'm one of them ... then I've how long? Five to seven months until they're going to come for me?" He didn't talk to either the beta or the alpha, he was rather talking to himself. "They're going to come for me, aren't they? That's what those visions mean. There are twelve victims so far and there are thirteen pairs of eyes - You think it's going to end when they kill me?" There was something hopeful in his eyes, his face, his whole appearance now.  
That was ridiculous. "No one's going to kill you. We'll take care of it. No one's gettin' to you, you'll see."  
"Henry's dead." Sam sighed. He looked so sad. Heartbroken. "You think it ended with him?"  
That was rather unlikely, Bobby and Dean knew it. They were talking about a vamp's nest which simply vanished – which was absurd. So whatever was going on, it wasn't just over.  
"No, I don't think so," Dean whispered.  
"What if I'm the bait? What if you ... I don't know ... use me somehow. Make them come for me ..." Sam got stopped by a hand right in his face and a disapproving growl.  
"We're not going there, Sam." Dean looked at him sternly. "That's not how we do things." he looked over at Bobby, who was listening intently, but staring at the far wall. "Right Bobby?"  
The grizzled mechanic's head snapped towards them. "Sure. That's not how we work." He petted Sam's shoulder. "Where are the fucking Oreos now?"

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Sam eyed the shopping bags on his bed hesitantly. They seemed to be stuffed full with clothes. Clothes Dean had bought for him.  
He found himself torn between anticipation and fear. If he'd take the man's offer, he'd owe him even more. And he couldn't repay him. Not anytime soon at least.  
Sam frowned at his own thoughts.  
After eyeing the bags some more, he decided that it didn't matter. He'd need some more pieces to put on ... and those boots he had weren't the best fitting either.  
With a deep sigh, he pulled one of the bags closer and lurked inside. There was blue and plaid. Similar to the things he was wearing right now.  
Sam couldn't hide a small smile as he pulled a pair of jeans from the bag and held them up to have a closer look at those. Sam tried it all on. The jeans were a bit loose, but the belt held them up quite perfectly.  
Though, the shirts fitted pretty well underneath the plaid button downs. He abandoned the clothes he had worn for two days now at the foot of the bed and slipped into the black hoodie. He then tried the boots.  
12.5 seemed to be his size.  
He then tried the slippers. Which fitted perfectly well too. Sam wiggled his sock-clad toes inside of them. His smile was blinding.  
"You done in there, princess?" he heard Dean call from the living room.  
Sam hummed. Those clothes felt nice. The hoodie was soft. The slippers fit. What could he want more? A roof over his head. Clothes. Shoes. Food.  
"Sam!?" he heard the alpha call again.  
"'comin!" Sam called back as he was already on his way out of his bedroom.  
Dean's head jerked up and towards Sam, a slow smile building on those pouty lips. "The smaller shoes won't fit. Sorry." Sam shrugged, looking to the ground shyly. "Thank you for the things you bought me." His cheeks blushed a tender red.  
"You like them?" The alpha wasn't concerned about the money. He was curious if Sam'd like them.  
And he obviously did. The way his big hands ran over the fabric of his hoodie – it said everything.  
"They're real nice." He beamed at the ex-hunter, his cheeks even redder. "And warm."  
"That's cool." Dean inhaled, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment. "So ..." He blinked his lashes at Sam, straightening up and tugged his shoulders straight, making it legit to be called an alpha. Showing his broad chest, his wild green eyes, firm thighs clad by denim, strong arms and muscles.  
"So ..." Sam repeated Dean's word, drawing it out some more – close to seductively – without even realizing.  
"You good to visit Bobby? Check some books?" he smiled a bit.  
"I'll just get my jacket." Sam murmured and turned around to disappear back in his room.  
He came back out a minute later, wearing a black leather bomber jacket, a dark brown cozy-looking lining tugging out from the collar.  
Okay, he may not have needed to buy exactly THIS ONE for Sam. But hell, how he imagined the jacket would fit him perfectly. And damn, if he hadn't been right about that. There was some extra space inside the jacket, but Sam'd need it. He had to pick up more weight and Dean didn't want him to not fit into the jacket anymore later on.  
Sam beamed at him. His face all dimples and shiny eyes. A broad smile and even more dimples.  
They stood there, looking at each other over the distance. Dean couldn't but check the omega out. The sweet scent of him burning into his nostrils and brain and soaking into his skin.  
The omega shifted from one foot to another as he scented the earthly smell of Dean Winchester. Burning into his skin and mind, memorizing it.  
They then came to an unspoken agreement to get into motion and to Bobby's.  
Sam didn't take off the jacket, though it was quite warm in Bobby's house with the fireplace going. As the good host Bobby was, he made them coffee and sandwiches, which he put on the coffee table before the couch.  
Dean got to work on the books of Bobby's, sorting through them until he had a quite high pile of them beside Sam, while the omega made himself comfortable right there. He watched the alpha closely, getting book after book. His gaze was trained at the ex-hunter's backside. Specially those firm perky globes working whenever he'd reach up for one of the books on one of the upper shelves.  
Sam counted nine books so far. Thick, old looking books with leather covers and engravings and fancy letters. He gazed at Bobby, when the older man entered the room with a questioning look. The grizzled hunter eyed Sam's jacket with a cocked eyebrow, his lips curled up in a funny way.  
Dean settled in on the other side of the couch and reached for one of the sandwiches.  
Sam watched him closely, waiting for his permission to start.  
Dean stopped mid-chewing and gave him a quizzical look that definitely said: "What are you waiting for?"  
The omega gazed at the books and then back at Dean, again asking without words if he was allowed to start.  
Dean gave him a nod, telling him that he could start. "You don't have to ask for things like that, Sam - We wanted you to have a look into the books not the other way round."  
What was definitely a go for Sam and he fell over the stack of books like it was some delicious piece of meat.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Sam eventually decided that it was too warm to wear the jacket anymore and shrugged it off, but wouldn't put it aside. Instead he stuffed it behind his back using it as pillow before taking another book.  
Bobby rolled his eyes and bit back a sigh that said FINALLY.  
Two hours later, Sam was through another two books, but hadn't found what he was looking for yet. There were a whole lot of creatures on four legs – or two legs and a fishtail. Or some other weird looking things. He rubbed his tired eyes and pushed the book from his lap and onto the couch.  
"We should stop," Dean spoke up, who had been watching Sam most of the time, like a lion a gazelle he decided to have for dessert. "We should grab some grub and go to bed." He gave him a weak smile when the omega looked up.  
"I'm good." Sam lied. He lied, Dean could tell. The omega was tired. The couple of hours this morning after questioning him weren't enough to feel well rested and stay up late. His vision hadn’t done him any favors either  
"What about your head?" the alpha asked, worry in his voice.  
It seemed to remind the grizzled mechanic about the seizure-like fit Sam had thrown earlier that day. Which set alarm-bells off in his mind. At least his facial expression told Dean so.  
"Dean's right." Bobby was on his feet and across the room, taking the books from the couch which Sam hadn't looked through yet and put them on his desk. "You can go through them tomorrow."  
Sam exhaled audibly and seemed to think for a moment before he nodded a yes. "I could take them with," he suggested.  
Bobby was about to say yes, but caught Dean's set features and the warning headshake which definitely told him to say no. And Bobby got it without having to ask.  
If he'd let Sam take those books with, he might not sleep tonight as he did the last one. It was important to figure out what was going on and what part those four-legged monsters played, but that wouldn't be of any use if Sam'd exhaust himself.  
"Nah - It's fine. Dean can get them tomorrow morning." He cocked one of his bushy eyebrows. "Besides, I may need them if I'm gettin' a call or somethin'," he added, his voice a bit insecure.  
Sam gave Dean a weird look over his shoulder. He knew.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

When Sam was showered and had a glass of milk and some more Oreos, he withdrew into his room and put the clothes away that lay scattered all over his bed. He then laid down, but refused to let himself drift off to sleep.  
He couldn't even tell why.  
So he lay under the covers, staring at the ceiling above, thinking about it all. About what had happened when he had been with Henry. What he had seen in his vision. He knew those things had something to do with each other. He knew there was more about the visions and the dreams and what had happened during the past year.  
Alone thinking about that, made his stomach cramp all over again.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

That night, Dean Winchester had a dream.  
None of the unpleasant kind like he sometimes used to have. Rather one of the very comfortable ones ...  
It was skin against skin. And sweat. His nails dug into the soft pale skin of a back, leaving red deep marks where they held onto.  
Sweet arousal compelled his muscles to flutter and contract, as he slid back into the tight hot tunnel beneath him, enveloping him.  
He didn't see her face, couldn't see her. The muscles in her back were working as she pushed against him, taking him in deeper, begging him to be taken. She was writhing and moaning and through the haze of Dean's pleasure-dazed mind, he could make out that her voice wasn't quite feminine. That something was off about this.  
But he couldn't care less at the moment.  
This felt too good. Too much like warm apple-pie on a Sunday morning, and the success after a hunt. So much like home and family and eternity that he wouldn't even want to try and think why this could possibly feel off.  
He pulled back and drove back in, driving a throaty moan from her. His nails grazed down her back and his hands settled on her hips, pulling her back into his thrust once more.  
Her sweet scent – so familiar and though foreign – surrounded them like a cloud of invisible poison infiltrating his lungs. Moans and gasps fell from the ex-hunter's lips as he sped up, driving home, snapping his hips forward and pulling back, watching himself withdrawing from the tight heat slowly before he buried himself again.  
She made those incredibly sweet noises whenever he'd hit her sweet spot deep inside her, her slick running down her thighs and in between her folds.  
Dean closed his eyes as he bowed over her, trailing kisses along her shoulders and back, licking salty fluid from her over-heated skin, tasting her on his tongue. Jasmine. Moss. And wood.  
Her voice was the one of a siren's. Luring and provoking. Seducing and calming.  
He had died and was in heaven.  
Dean felt his knot swell inside of her, knowing that he couldn't hold out much longer than that.  
She cried out as she tensed up beneath him, locking him inside of her as her muscles spasmed around him, gasping a soft "Dean".  
Dean squeezed his eyes shut as he drove home once more, a breathed "Sammy" falling from his lips.  
Dean Winchester sucked in a deep breath, his rib-cage expanding fully and his eyes snapped open. He was panting. The weight between his thighs pulsing and emptying itself, wetting his boxers with sticky warm fluid.  
"Fuck," he panted, desperately trying to catch his breath. "Shit." Dean felt his manhood twitch with the aftershocks of his very REAL orgasm.  
His shirt was soaking wet with sweat. Pearls of salty water running down his forehead. The small hairs on the back of his neck sticking to his skin.  
Dean looked down at himself as he felt the chilly air against the exposed skin where his shirt had ridden up his belly. He groaned. He didn't need to see what had happened. He could feel it very clearly.  
He'd creamed himself like a teenager having his first wet dream.  
Dean tried to will his racing heart down, blood roaring through his ears.  
What kind of person was dreaming about shit like that? He was sick. He had to be sick. There was no way he wasn't. Because this was not okay. That was so not okay at all.  
Dreaming about an omega who had been abused who ... Nope, he wasn't going there. This would not be happening, nor would he allow himself to dream about something like that ever again.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Despite his desperate attempts not to fall asleep, Sam drifted off into a light slumber anyway. He hadn't had another option anyway – not after all those things that had happened today.  
The first thing he became aware of, was the tight heat in his lower belly, the sensation of being filled from something hard, though soft.  
Sam pushed back against sweat-slick skin, taking more into him of the alpha's manhood. A throaty moan fell from his lips as he hit his sweet spot once more, making him see stars before his closed eyelids.  
He writhed beneath the man, feeling him pull out and slam back into him. Blunt nails digging into the skin of his shoulders.  
Instead of feeling afraid or scared, he felt safe and comfortable beneath the man. It felt like being protected, like being loved. It felt like home. So much like home in a way he hadn't felt in a lifetime.  
The way the man moved behind him, pushing into him with such gentle force, stretching him wide open.  
Sam couldn't hold back those noises which drove from his lips with every thrust, the thick scent of old wood and oil and musk penetrating his nose, clouding his mind. It felt like sweet poison burning down his lungs as he inhaled. The thick and heavy scent of an aroused alpha – so close.  
He pushed back into him, feeling strong fingers gripping his hips tightly, drawing him back into his thrusts.  
The heat and tightness in his lower belly increased, tying a firm knot into his guts, as another wave of pleasure washed over him and made him gasp and moan. He reached back with his left hand and tangled his fingers into the alpha's, holding onto them as he glided back, filling him up.  
He felt his own fluids run down the inner side of his thighs, writhing and groaning against the man behind him to gain more friction.  
Sam toppled over the edge without him realizing at first. His muscles spasmed and locked down around the alpha's member as he felt the knot inside of him swell. And that was all it took. A gasped "Dean" rolled over his tongue...  
... And the omega's eyes snapped open, feeling himself releasing in his sweatpants, his member twitching and spasming.  
There was darkness. Absolute darkness all around him. He couldn't even make out the ceiling above him as he blinked furiously.  
Sam huffed out a breath in between raged gasps, his heart pounding in his chest as if he had just ... well, he had – indeed – wetted his pants with slick and ... come.  
"No ..." he breathed, closing his eyes, willing his heart and breathing down. "What the hell ..."

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

A week went by without any further incidents. They had fallen into an easy routine about their daily works. Dean had shown Sam how to get the central heating going and how to make fire.  
Sam seemed to feel a bit easier too. He smiled more, talked more. Hell, he even stole the remote control from Dean when it was about watching TV.  
Dean had continued to question Sam occasionally, not letting it seem as if he was interrogating him. Nope. Instead he managed to let it look like a casual conversation.  
Jim had called twice and informed them, that the victims – of course – had all been psychics and after having a look into the police records, he had found out, that Sam had been right. That two of the victims hadn't returned home. The weirder thing about it was, that those who returned to their homes, seemed like nothing had happened. As if they had never been away – as if they had forgotten that they had been taken and maybe tortured and ... god knew what.  
Psychiatrists had written, that it was a coping mechanism and that their memories would come back sooner or later. Though they didn't. At least not until the day they died. What was also mesmerizing, was the fact,that three of them had been pregnant when they had returned home and had died just days before they were supposed to give birth.  
A couple of families told Jim, that they had changed though. That they were rarely going out, or were trying to not have any contact with the outer world. Which didn't fit the police-reports from after they had returned home.  
Further, those three who had been pregnant had declined medical attention about their pregnancies.  
Of course, Dean didn't say a single thing about that stuff to Sam until they'd know more.  
So Dean caught himself more often staring at the omega's belly. After all he was partly female and ... well ... if it meant anything at all and he'd think about those dreams he had lately ... well ... there was a whole lot more feminine about the omega than he let on.  
Sam though wasn't stupid. He knew that something was up, whenever Dean'd leave the cabin to pick up a phone call or make one himself. The late night visits at Bobby's without taking Sam with him. Sneaking out of the house when he thought the omega was asleep.  
And all the more frustrating it was, that Sam couldn't find those animals in Bobby's old books. Not a single one looking similar to that beast ...  
This weekend, Dean helped Bobby get some boxes from the attic so that he could bring them to the charity bazaar on Sunday. He had said something about old dresses and someone called Karen and that it was about time to let go of old things ... Bobby had sounded sad.  
Which made Sam feel sad too.  
Dean seemed as if he felt sad but didn't show it. Instead he smiled broadly – a faked smile just to mention – at Sam. Bobby told him that he could look through the boxes if he'd like something, that he could have it. He should only take care that he didn't take too much and make Dean bitching by doing so.  
"I'm NEVER bitchy, old man!" Dean yelled downstairs, on his way back up towards the attic. It sounded a bit whiney though.  
Sam snickered.  
Bobby put yet another dusty box down inside his living room, where Sam was sitting on the couch and rummaging through another one. Sam had gotten permission to take what he liked, but also the task to put things that looked like occult pieces onto the table.  
First of all, Bobby had explained to him what spell-boxes were and that he wasn't supposed to open them and NOT EVER touch what was inside of them with his bare hands.  
Bobby obviously couldn't quite remember where he had put them years ago – only that there had to be some more in the attic.  
Sam had found three of those engraved wooden boxes so far and had put them on the coffee table. He would've lied if he had said that he hadn't had a look into at least one of them. Though, he didn't quite understand what a keychain – actually a rabbit's foot – could possibly do to someone. But instead of following the urge of touching it, he had closed the box again and put it aside.  
He put stuff from one of the dusty boxes into others, so that he'd have one where he could put the things into he wanted to keep.  
There were some nice things. A bedside lamp that looked very much like one from the seventies with a brass socket and milky glass. A keychain with a Labracoun and some cassettes had found their way in there too.  
He opened the box Bobby had just brought and found some rather ... girly stuff. A small case. A jewelry box to be exact, in which he found a silver bracelet, a golden ring and earrings with rose pearls.  
He put it into his box, so not to forget and tell Bobby about it. Whoever this had belonged to, Robert Singer surely would be happy to have it back. There was a whole lot of paper in that box too and at the very bottom, Sam found something champagne-colored, which looked a lot like a laced tablecloth.  
The omega liked what it felt like against his fingertips. Soft and it ... it looked special. So he pulled it out and had to realize that this wasn't a tablecloth at all. It was a dress. A real nice dress by the way. It's lining was soft and slippery between his fingers, while the champagne-colored lace had something rough ...  
His smile widened a bit and his eyes lit up.  
"Beautiful," he murmured to himself as he held it up and eyed it intently.  
His first thought was what it would feel like against his skin.  
His second thought was, that he couldn't be serious about even thinking about trying it on. This was for a woman and the dress wasn't even his size. Sam was a guy. He had a beard and a cock and ... well ... a vagina too.  
Sam sighed, his expression darkening slightly. This wasn't how he was supposed to think. He didn't want to even go there ... He was a guy. Male. There was no way he'd try this on ... was he?  
THIS was ridiculous. And wrong. He wasn't a cross-dresser. He wasn't supposed to feel like he could even LIKE that thing in his hands.  
And though he did.  
A rage of emotions crossed his features and he bit his lower lip.  
Sam eyed the dress some more and gazed towards the hallway. Maybe he could keep it anyway. Try it on when no one was looking ...  
There were heavy footfalls on the stairs and Sam's gaze flickered back at the dress. Spontaneously, he balled the dress together in his hands and put it into his own box and then hurried up to look busy with working through the other one.  
He found a second dress at the very bottom. It had a rose lining and black lace. It was at least as beautiful as the last one and looked a bit bigger.  
Sam took that one too, and put it at the very bottom of his own box.  
Later on he found a cassette player and an old radio, which he took too. He found some more cassettes and another jewelry box.  
Pretty soon the living room was littered with those boxes and Sam lost track of which one he had looked through already and which ones weren't checked on yet. So he started to mark the ones he already searched through with an X.  
He found some more dresses and skirts, but left them be. They weren't as nice as those two anyway – At least that was what he told himself.  
Dean came with another box into the living room and put it on top of another one. He watched Sam sort through cassette tapes for a long moment, before he brushed his hands off on his jeans and limped over beside him, having a look at the tapes himself.  
Work like this – and the carrying walks up and down the stairs – made his hip and knee ache worse. He had just popped another Vicodin half an hour ago and Bobby had told him to back off and take a rest, but Dean had refused - So far. It wasn't like he had been doing anything else useful this past couple of days, had he?  
"Don't know if they still work," he said, eyeing the omega from the corners of his eyes.  
Dean stood so close, their shoulders were close to touching. His smile was warm and confident, so was his scent. As if he was ... happy.  
Sam looked over at him, somehow hesitant. "You think?"  
The alpha shrugged. "Don't know. We'll try them once we're done here, huh? Relax a bit when we're back home?" He still smiled. His emerald-green eyes bright and loving. Freckles all over his face, now more visible than otherwise in the sunbeams which shone through the window above the couch.  
The omega smiled back at him, all dimples and amazingly multi-colored irises. His scent warm and sweet. Just like a comfortable omega had to smell.  
"Yeah. I think I'd like that."  
Sam shifted a bit, so that he was standing diagonally from the ex-hunter. Dean shifted too, matching himself to the omega. Their looks locked over the short distance. The ex-hunter's left hand somehow came to rest on Sam's hip, tugging him closer.  
Sam let him. He wanted to be pulled closer. Wanted to feel the alpha. Wanted to scent him. (It was actually weird. Because Sam had thought ... he didn't know what he had been thinking.)  
The air between them was electric, palpable with unspoken emotions. The hairs all over their bodies stood up in anticipation. Both felt the pull of their bodies – their souls – towards each other.  
Dean pulled the omega in even closer, a low rumble erupted from his throat, when Sam would let him, not a fibre in his body protesting against it. The alpha rose his other hand, catching bangs of dark hair which were hiding the scar on Sam's face and was about to tug them behind his ear, when they both got jostled out of their magic embrace.  
A loud pang was heard from upstairs, which meant that Bobby had shut the skylight and was about to come downstairs.  
They pulled back and looked aside awkwardly.  
Sam blushed.  
Dean's cheeks tainted a faint red as he let his hand slide from the omega's hip and made a step back. He cleared his throat gingerly and huffed out an embarrassed breath.  
Had he just attempted to ravish the omega right there? In the middle of Bobby's living room?  
Sam turned back around towards the box, his head hanging low, brown strands of hair falling back into his face.  
It took just a few seconds until footfalls were heard on the stairs and Bobby turned around the corner, covered in dust and cobwebs. He sniffed, his nose scrunched up as if he was smelling something weird, and pocketed his phone back into his jeans.  
"Sam?" the older man asked to gain the omega's attention.  
He looked up from his box, a cassette tape in his hands.  
"Why don't you ... try them?" Bobby's voice sounded like he needed Sam to want to try them out. "I've a cassette player upstairs in the room where you've been holed up before." He smiled nervously.  
Dean gave him a curious look, his arm sneaking around Sam's waist, holding him loosely in his grasp. "You tell me which ones still work, 'kay?"  
"You know you both can tell me, when you've hunter-stuff to talk about, right? Or when you don't want to have me around to talk about the case ..." Sam turned out of the alpha's hold, as his fingers curled around his box and he lifted it up. "It's not a big deal." Though it was a big deal, Sam seemed kind of upset about them wanting him not around. "I wouldn't want to have me around either," he mumbled as he gripped the box tighter and left the room, aiming straight for the stairs.  
Dean sighed and washed a hand over his face.  
"Well ... he ain't stupid." Bobby murmured.  
"It wasn't very subtle either, Bobby. So ... I guess Jim called?" Dean's gaze followed Sam until he disappeared out of his view.  
Bobby bit the insides of his lips before he pursed them. "Yeah ... He thinks he found something that connects the victims." The grizzled mechanic hesitated for a moment. "Besides being psychics."

.... to be continued


	10. Boy or Girl?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> beta'd by gothpandaotaku aka bella.  
> you're amazing, girl.
> 
> you can find me here if you want to:
> 
> www dot facebook dot com slash bruisedbloodybroken

Fields Of Jasmine  
Chapter 10 ~ Boy or Girl?

Bobby had put stuff into the room where Sam had been holed up right after they had found him in the woods. And everything was covered with white sheets. The bed, the recliner, the closet. Everything.  
Though there were a whole lot more things in this room now. Things that wanted to be explored.  
Sam smirked a bit. It wasn't like he was pissed or something. But he was disappointed if he was honest. Because he trusted those hunters – at least mostly – and it kind of hurt that they didn't return those feelings towards him.  
Maybe they were right not to do so though. After all they were hunters and he was ... hell, he had no clue what he was exactly. Psychics weren't humans – but they weren't monsters either. On top of everything else he was neither male nor female.  
Sam sighed and looked back at the closed door, listening.  
They'd be busy for quite some time downstairs, so ... Sam sighed.  
He walked towards the big sheet-covered thing and studied it for a moment. How surprised was he, when he pulled the sheet down and saw a big cheval glass with a dark-brown wooden frame around it.  
Sam made a surprised but pleased sound as he stared at himself. Maybe he wouldn't check on those tapes anyway. Maybe it would be nicer to have a look at himself when he was wearing a dress ... If he was fast and wouldn't get lost in thoughts again.  
Sam stared at himself some more, brushing his bangs behind his ears, revealing the scar to himself. It looked horrible. Utterly horrible. Wouldn't it be for the scar, he would have a nice face. It shone a bit silvery instead of the unnatural brown, as he tilted his head to the side.  
The omega stepped a bit closer and covered the right side of his face with his flat palm watching the muscles beneath his skin twitch and his lips curl into a smile. He didn't look so bad without that scar though. Sam brushed his hair back forward, so it'd cover the right side of his face and laid his palm over nose and mouth, covering the shadows of his growing beard and sharp jawbone.  
What he saw were long lashes and big eyes, soft nice hair tickling over the knuckles of his fingers.  
He'd made a reasonable woman though, wouldn't he? Except for the fact that his shoulders were too broad, his chest too flat and he had no waist.  
Then again ... For being a guy, his ass was a bit too curvy and his eyes too big and feminine. His lips were too rosey and his beard was too soft – at least it wasn't as scratchy as it should be. He knew he was swinging his hips a tiny bit when he walked and the way he used to turn his hair around his pointing finger while he was reading wasn't as masculine either. And then there was also the very obvious hidden in his pants.  
Why couldn't he been born as a girl or a boy for fuck's sake? Why? WHY? Why was he damned to live like THIS? Like a damn freak? Weren't the visions punishment enough?  
He didn't want to be a freak. And he bet he didn't want that before he let them poke around in his brain. No wonder he wanted to forget, dammit.  
He had never asked for this, had he?  
Sam sighed and shook his head in defeat, trying to calm himself down and try to not cry. It took him about ten minutes of silent weeping before the worst part of his emotional breakdown was over and cleaned his nose into the sheet he had pulled from the mirror before since he hadn't any tissues with him.  
He wiped off his face into the sleeve of his hoodie and turned around towards the bed, where he had put the box with penny-ante stuff.  
His red eyes lit up a bit at the sight of the white and champagne-colored dress as he pulled it out and held it up. Sam turned around with it and held it to his chest, watching it in the mirror.  
No one would know except him, right? He'd try them on and then put them back at the very bottom of the box. No one would ever know he had them, nor that he tried them on.  
Dean Winchester thought about him as a freak already, he didn't have to make things worse or more awkward between the both of them. Then again ... hadn't he tried to kiss him?  
Or maybe the alpha was only curious of how he'd taste? After all Sam knew that he smelled different from the other omegas ... and according to Henry, it'd turn them into horny dogs ... So maybe that was what made Dean Winchester act so very different around him now. Because when he thought about the first time they met ... well ...

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Dean sighed heavily, one hand rubbing over his tired eyes, as he sat on the couch. "So Jim thinks they had all been experiencing the same? Just by DIFFERENT monsters? ... Why let them go, when they were gonna kill them anyway? I mean ... what's the point?" He looked up at his older friend in disgust.  
Bobby shrugged, not knowing what to say.  
"And what about Henry's pet? Or ... I mean, was it the same thing or were they different ones?" He huffed out a breath and slumped back.  
"At least the descriptions of seven victims matched the one Sam gave us about Henry's. Maybe they're something we didn't get in contact with yet. Some kind of monster which searches for a new master and somehow controls it?" He shrugged again. "I've no clue."  
"So the victims who were ... they got pregnant while their time away, Jim said - From a monster?" No, he couldn't believe that. He had never heard of it, that monsters did pair with humans, even if it was possible. "I mean ... vamps are practically dead meat on two legs. How could they possibly make babies with a human? And werewolves? What the hell, Bobby?" He huffed out another breath, having to let it all sink in.  
"I don't know, boy. But we'll find out." The grizzled man leaned back against the door frame and shook his head. Then he cleared his throat. "You think that .Sam's ... you know ..." He made a gesture towards Dean's belly, whirling his finger around in the air to underline his thoughts, his eyebrows rising up.  
"Nah - If so he surely would've noticed ... We would've noticed, wouldn't we?" Dean thought for a moment. "How long has it been? I mean ... he was close to a year with them ... and we killed Savanger about three months ago ... We would see something, right?"  
The grizzled man gave an approving sound from him. "Yeah. You're right. We would."  
There was an awkward silence stretching out between the both of them.  
"Why don't you go get Sam, huh? I'll warm up the roast beef and potato mash from yesterday."  
The ex-hunter nodded and groaned uncomfortably as he got up, putting way more strain onto his hip and knee than was good for him. He made a few limping steps and stretched, kneeling his thigh absently.  
Dean went to the stairs and lurked up the staircase. Nope, he didn't want to climb up there again. "Sammy! Food's ready in ten!" he yelled.  
A second later, Bobby was behind him giving his head a slap. "I said you should go and get him, Idjit. No yellin'." The grizzled mechanic shook his head as he moved on into the kitchen, shaking his head and mumbling something along: "He ain't gonna hear ya' if he's listenin' to the tapes."  
Dean's face scrunched up in discomfort and he reached back to rub the back of his head where his older friend had just slapped him.  
Sometimes that guy was as bad as John. "Fine," he grumbled and groaned as he looked up the stairs once again. Did he already mention that he didn't like stairs?  
Slowly and limping he made his way up towards the room Sam had to be in. To his surprise he didn't hear music – which he should, since Sam was supposed to try the tapes. - or maybe he had found something else to spend his time with ...  
Dean laid his hand onto the knob and turned it slowly. Since there was only dead silence coming from the room on the other side of the door, he decided to just lurk inside. If Sam had fallen asleep, he'd leave him be and wouldn't call him for lunch.  
After all it seemed, like the omega was still sleeping way too little. So he nudged the door open a bit, made a step forward and lurked inside.  
His eyes widened and his hand slid from the knob, making it swing wider open than it was supposed to.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Sam fought with the zipper at the back of the dress, straining his back and arms to get to the middle of his back. The omega held his breath and held in his stomach, desperate to get the zipper up.  
Eventually he managed it, though breathing in this thing was a luxury itself.  
Sam straightened the dress with his hands, fingertips ghosting over the petite fabric on its front. It was a bit tight around his chest though.  
He eyed himself curiously in the mirror and turned around to look at himself from the side. Sam then turned back to eye himself from the front. His eyes wandering up from his bare feet and hairless calves to where his legs disappeared under the dress.  
Its skirt was a wide swinging one, with neat drapes and a small seam of lace on its bottom. It looked a bit like it was made for someone who was pregnant though. There was an elastic band right under his breasts, holding the upper part of it tightly to his rib-cage  
Short lace-sleeves, falling loosely over his shoulders.  
For the fact that he wasn't quite a girl he looked kind of good in the dress. It might be a bit too small, but that didn't matter. Not at all. Eventually he dared to breathe in. The fabric strained against his chest and shoulder-blades  
Sam made a turn around himself, watching with awe the way the dress lifted shallowly and swung with the movement. Still a bit curious, he pursed his lips as he turned around to check out how his back looked like in it.  
It wasn't bad either, Sam figured.  
A spark of joy flamed up inside of his chest, making him smile broadly. This was truly nice. And it felt incredible against his skin.  
He wiggled his hips, trying how those movements would look like.  
To Sam's surprise he didn't think that it looked as off, or embarrassing, as he thought it should. Somehow it seemed to fit him. The lace, the color ... the way his eyes seemed to be brighter. "Huh," he breathed, making a step closer towards the mirror.  
Sam got ripped out of his daydreaming state as he caught movement in the mirror from behind him. He froze.  
The door swung open a bit more and a pair of emerald-green huge eyes stared back at his through the mirror.  
Sam's eyes widened in return and the smile on his face dropped. He paled. His heart started speeding up at the expression on the alpha's face.  
So blank. So shocked So ... Shit. This wasn't supposed to happen.  
The alpha took a step forward into the room, still not talking.  
Sam turned around. His cheeks flushed a dark red, his eyes watery, his hands shaking. He made a step back and felt the cheval glass behind him against the back of his head. He swallowed thickly.  
There was definitely no way out. No way to hide away from the thrilling look on Dean's face.  
The omega pulled his arms up and crossed them in front of his chest, hooking his hands over his shoulders as if to hide himself, as he cast his look down.  
Sam closed his eyes in shame. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.  
Neither of them heard Bobby call for them to get their asses downstairs and eat lunch. Neither of them heard narrowing heavy steps on old creaking wood. Nor Dean, nor Sam noticed Robert Singer appearing in the doorway, dying words on his lips as he caught sight of the omega inside the room.  
Bobby stopped dead in his tracks, only inches before bumping into Dean's back, his face wide open and though unreadable.  
"Holy .... balls ..." the grizzled hunter murmured breathlessly  
Though he seemed to regain control over his senses before Dean could even grab a useful thought and laid his hand on the alpha's shoulder.  
"Lunch's ready, Sam," Bobby said finally – a bit hoarse. "We're waitin' for ya' downstairs ... Just ... you know ... when you're ready." And that was all he would say, before he pulled Dean out of the room with him and shut the door to leave Sam to ... well, whatever he was doing.  
The older hunter manhandled the alpha away from the door and down the stairs into the kitchen. Dean still seemed somehow shocked about what he had seen.  
"C'mon," Bobby grumbled and nudged Dean towards the fridge. "Get the damn salad and beer."  
Though, Dean continued to stand and stare. Would it have been a REAL girl in that room, he'd have walked over. Would've stood behind her (what – in this case – might have looked a bit awkward, since he was a few inches shorter than Sam) and would've looked over her shoulder into the mirror. He'd have caught her look, would've made her to look at herself. He'd laid his hands on her shoulders or on her waist and would've told her how beautiful she was.  
Well ... how beautiful HE was in this case ... and then they might have kissed.  
He just hadn't thought about ... finding Sam in a dress ... and well ... Dean wasn't just at a lack of words. Even his mind seemed to suffer from a real bad case of short circuiting.  
Shit, that was bound to get awkward ...  
"Are you even listening?" Bobby demanded, tearing him out of his thoughts and back into the present. Into the kitchen. Towards the task at hand.  
"Yeah." Dean's voice broke. He stalked over to the fridge and got out the salad, three beers and a bottle of coke. He put all the things on the small kitchen table and went to get glasses.  
When the food was warmed over and on the table, the two men sat there. Dean a bit more tense than Bobby.  
"You ... you think I should go upstairs? See if everything's okay?" Dean whispered, insecure.  
Bobby flashed him a clueless look. "If you think that starin' at him as if he's grown two heads I'd rather not go up there," he murmured.  
Then there was silence again. Nothing that led on, that Sam would be coming through the doorway any time soon.  
"I wasn't staring," Dean hissed back.  
"We both were staring." The beta sighed heavily and rubbed over his eyes. "He's a pretty nice lookin' girl though," he added after a moment.  
"Bobby," the alpha ground out.  
"What?" The older man's gaze snapped back up.  
"Just ... drop it, would'ya?" Dean cleared his throat. "He's just ... tryin' out things – probably."  
"You embarrassed 'bout the boy?" Bobby knew that the ex-hunter wasn't someone who shipped things like that – normally. But he also knew that Dean was a very tolerant and accepting person. He wouldn't judge Sam. And if Bobby was right about what he was sensing, Dean wouldn't be able to judge him (or bring him back to Columbus). Because he wouldn't be able to.  
"Hell no ... it's ... What am I supposed to say to him now?" Yeah, it was kind of embarrassing, specially because it had been surprising as hell. He was completely taken aback. So far Sam hadn't looked like he LIKED girl-stuff. What reminded him, that Sam was partly a girl. Even when he had no clue exactly what that entailed.  
Google would tell him anyway as soon as he'd have time to look it up. After all he only knew that hermaphrodites (what that meant – at least basic information. That they were kind of half male half female) existed and that they were rare. But he had no clue about how that could look like, or what it even meant for Sam to be that way.  
Maybe it was completely normal (after all there were cross-dresser out there, who weren't hermaphrodite who liked to dress like the opposite gender). Well, not that anything was wrong about that either. Sure, Dean wasn't the guy who'd hook up with a transvestite or something. Because he was a very utterly completely masculine guy (drumming and banging on his own chest like Tarzan). Hell – and if that was how Sam rolled, he couldn't care less. He had just no clue how to tell that the omega without screwing things up even more.  
Because the way he had stared at him ... the way Sam had looked away in shame ... that hadn't felt right and he had been too taken aback to act on it the right way. The appropriate way.  
"I'd say ... Hell, I don't know, okay?" Bobby grumbled. "Ain't like I've ever met someone like Sam. If it isn't for him looking like a man, I wouldn't even know how to approach him in the first place, boy. IF I'd know anyway ..." That seemed to be an issue to Bobby, which he couldn't wrap his mind around himself yet. As far as you could call it an issue. After all it had to be even more difficult for Sam. Specially in regards to the more close-minded beings on this planet. And man, could those be mean and assholes.  
"So you'd be cool with him runnin' around in dresses?" Dean's voice high-pitched at the word dresses and emphasized it slightly.  
"I sure as hell don't care. I guess that's who he is - Even if he wouldn't be who he got born as ..." Bobby grumbled. "Look, boy. I'm not sayin' I won't stare. All I'm sayin' is, that we are gonna have to accept it. So ... if you think you ... you know ..."  
"What? You think I can't handle a guy – or whatever – in a dress? You're callin' me close-minded? I'm not that much of an asshole or monster as you may think, old man."  
"Hell, no!" Bobby huffed out a breath.  
Dean didn't think he had seen the older hunter blush before. "Hope so," he muttered to himself. He blew out a breath.  
Then there was the rustling of fabric and shuffling of sock-clad feet on smooth wood and the two men fell silent.  
Bobby's and Dean's gaze were trained at the kitchen's doorway, waiting in nervous tension. It wasn’t like they were waiting for Sam to show up in the dress or something. It was rather because – well, they didn't exactly know why. Maybe they just wanted Sam to show that – whatever they had interrupted upstairs – didn't matter to them. That it didn't change anything.  
Sam was still the same guy – or girl – or whoever they had started to like.  
There was a hesitation, the shuffles on the steps and Bobby and Dean shared a short glance until the shuffling was heard again and the omega eventually came into the kitchen.  
Sam held the both dresses thrown over his right lower arm and had his left hand resting on them as if they were something precious. Something that had to be treated with care. He threw a tentative glance at the both men, before he looked back down at the fabric and went further into the room until he was standing right before Bobby, well two feet between them still.  
"I ..." Sam swallowed hard. "I didn't want to take them. I ... Thank you for letting me have some of your things." Shame was radiating from the omega in thick heavy waves. Omnipresent and not something someone could possibly not sense. "Here." He held the arm with the dresses towards Bobby.  
It were Karen's. Of course, the grizzled hunter had instantly realized THAT. And it even kind of hurt to see the two favorite dresses of his dead wife. It even stung a bit that someone else got to touch them besides of him. But – as much as it may hurt – it was the past.  
And he was living in the present.  
Someone had told him a long time ago, that he had to let go of the past and look into the future. Yeah, and that someone had been Ellen.  
He took them anyway, even when he thought for a moment to let Sam have them. It may have made things even more embarrassing for the omega as they already were.  
"There are two jewelry-boxes too ... I've put them on the bed ... upstairs ...", Sam added softly. His gaze flickered up briefly to meet the older man soft one. "I wasn't going to take them, Bobby. I ... wanted to give them to you later ... when we'd be done ... and ... then I forgot ..."  
"It's okay, boy." He smiled warmly as his calloused fingers wrapped carefully around the tender fabric of the dresses. "I told you you can take what you like."  
Something like relief washed over the omega's face, and though it darkened again.  
Awkward silence spread.  
It spread some more.  
"C'mon. Sit down. Food's gettin' cold." Bobby shared a look with Dean and rose to put the dresses aside.  
They then ate in silence. Sam poked at his food more than he actually ate. But no one was willing to address the issue. Dean would think about something later on of how to make Sam eat something else. And how he was going to bring the topic about the dresses up – just so he could tell him that it was nothing bad.  
Sam cleaned the dishes.  
No one dared to argue about it.  
When they left Bobby's, Sam left the box behind deliberately He actually didn't need any of those things anyway. He had all the things he needed in his room. There was no need to stuff Dean's house full of old things ... after all he wasn't supposed to stay there anyway. It'd be just long enough so that Robert Singer and the alpha wouldn't have a bad conscience about his well-being.  
Because he was a screw-up. He was a freak. He had proved it thoroughly.  
Once back in Dean's house, Sam went straight into his room before the alpha could say something. So, with a sigh, Dean limped over towards the couch and slumped down on it.  
He wasn't in for sweet-talk or chick-flicks at the moment anyway. His fucking hip hurt as if it was about to get ripped out of its sockets and his knee was swollen and hot.  
What a fucking shitty day ...  
Dean huffed out a breath and shook his head, as he maneuvered himself into a lying position. Well ... at least he could've picked up his freakin' laptop for some research. So yeah, he got up once more (but only that once, he swore to himself) and settled back on the couch. The alpha swallowed another Vicodin (dry) and booted his notebook up.  
When it was finally started, he noticed, that he was lying head-first towards the bedroom doors. Which was an actually real bad thing to do. Because if Sam'd come out, he'd see what he was doing. And that could make things even worse. So Dean changed his position again, so that he was looking towards the bedroom doors, what would buy him enough time to snap the laptop shut, in case Sam'd come out unexpectedly.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Two hours later ... and Dean Winchester's head was full with information about hybrids. Or hermaphrodites. Or zwitter (how they were called in German). None of this words felt nice to Dean though.  
He had read in a blog of a hermaphrodite. It had been pretty enlightening. Only, this one was more of a girl than a boy and she was a beta. Long brown hair and brown eyes. She looked petite from her picture and well ... nice.  
So Dean worked himself through her blog and read in Wikipedia about hermaphrodites. He found some other sources and tried to pick out the stuff that could be useful for him.  
Hell, he just didn't want to make something wrong and screw things to hell with Sam. He kinda liked him – very much. All Dean knew was, that he didn't think that he could stand it anymore to not having him around, to not let the omega's scent sooth him into sleep when his hip and knee tortured him at night.  
In the end – and after finding some more blogs discussing that topic – he realized that there was nothing wrong with Sam feeling like he wanted to wear dresses. NOT that there have ever been something wrong with such a thing in the first place. Hell NO!  
Who was he to judge others?  
It wasn't like it was a kink, as it seemed.  
It was pretty much like ... Sam had two faces. A male one and a girly one. So was it with the owners of those blogs. They all looked like normal people you'd meet on the street. Some preferred a gender and some even went through surgery to be "normal". A hand full of those seemed pretty cool. That one girl was mostly dressing as a guy. And had a boyfriend. Another one was a boy and hell, if that one didn't make a hot chick. He – SHE – had a boyfriend too.  
Though ... it was a bit different when it came to omegas. After all omegas were different. They thought different.  
Sam was high likely one of a hand full of hermaphrodites in the whole US. Hell, he probably was the only omega-hermaphrodite in the whole damn world.  
A wave of pure pride washed over Dean at the realization. He and Bobby had saved him ... They were protecting something precious ... (He desperately tried not to use the term MINE in his mind when it came to Sam though. After all, Sam was no one's).  
After that – and because curiosity won out – Dean searched for ... well ... nude portraits of hermaphrodites. Because he couldn't ask Sam about getting naked and show him what he looked like. AND because it'd definitely wouldn't do any good. AND because this part of Sam had to be a very private one. One he didn't want to share.  
Dean could understand that. Though, he wouldn't be like that high likely. Hell, when he had still been on the road hunting, he had a girl (rarely a guy) in each damn fucking town. He probably would've tried out a whole lot of things with those special features.  
He had to grin smugly at that thought.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Sam sat on the bed, legs pulled up against his chest and arms wrapped tightly around them. How was he supposed to look the alpha in the eyes ever again? Man, he'd give everything if the earth would open up right now and swallow him whole. Right there. Right then.  
What had he even been thinking?  
How much more of a freak could he be?  
Sam wondered if he had always been like this. If he had always been such a coward and embarrassing. A guy for his size – an omega on top of that – and – well – the rest wasn't supposed to act like that. He should show pride. He was supposed to be special.  
Like other omegas. Well, not that he could tell if he ever had met others ...  
Sam swallowed a sob.  
Of course he needed to cry – again. Just another thing that showed how much of a weakness he actually was. How much of a girl he was. Because a guy? Hell, a guy didn't cry. That much he knew.  
What was he even supposed to do with his future? What lay ahead? He wouldn't be able to hide out on the salvage for the rest of his life. He couldn't live on Dean's and Bobby's pockets forever.  
Hell, he wasn't even capable of finding Henry's pet in any of those books Bobby had let him look into. Right now he was supposed to look through them instead of cowering on the bed on top of a sea of blankets and cry his eyes out.  
And then there was Dean Winchester. The alpha.  
He kind of liked him – very much. What felt quite irritating.  
He practically didn't know squat about that man – except for the brief glimpses he had gotten every now and then – but it felt like he knew him. At least kind of.  
Sam knew that Dean was an alpha and once a hunter and that he went on hunts occasionally nowadays. He knew that his hip and knee got injured on a hunt and forced him to stay in a hospital for months. He knew that Dean's family was dead.  
Sam also knew that Dean didn't like to talk about that. He knew, that whenever the alpha would look at him, that there was this spark of happiness and hope and something more in his eyes.  
Dean was actually very nice to him. At least he had been so far.  
Hell, Sam couldn't even tell if he had a girlfriend or boyfriend in his past and why he had been on his own when he had been abducted. He had no clue in which direction he swung.  
Sure, there was Dean and he felt quite attracted towards the older man. But then again, there were Henry, Bobby, others from the nest, Jody and Ellen. And neither of them had roused this kind of interest.  
Why the hell had he let those doctors poke around in his god-forsaken brain? WHY?  
He couldn't imagine (right now) that anything could feel worse than not remembering his past. Remembering who he was.  
Then there was his time with the nest. With Henry. With his pet. Specially with his pet.  
Those things he could remember clearly. Sadly.  
Of course there were the first few rough months in which he had been beaten and stuff. Then everything changed with the first time he became sick. That had been when he himself started to realize that he was different. And that had been the first time he had gotten tied to the bed face down and buck-ass naked and also the first time he had seen Henry's pet.  
His first time he had sex ... At least that he could remember.  
So far he have had a whole lot of real bad first times ...  
Other than all that he had a more pressing issue right now. Sam needed to pee.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Dean rubbed over his tired eyes and closed the laptop. He then put it on the coffee table and sat up with a groan.  
The pain in his hip and knee had eased a bit, though it still looked swollen and was hard to bend. Well, he have had worse anyway. Sam must've had worse.  
His phone vibrated in the front-pocket of his jeans and a moment later his ring-tone echoed through the living-room.  
Dean eyed the caller-ID curiously since he couldn't remember the number and eventually picked up.  
"Yeah?" he asked.  
"He. –It’s Amelia," a female voice spoke up.  
"Hey, yeah. What's up?" Dean wasn't in a mood to talk so why not screw that bullshit and go straight for the matter?  
"Garth Fitzgerald – a counselor – is going to stop by Monday in a week around 9:00am."  
Dean pursed his lips and frowned. Fantastic timing. "Okay?"  
"I just thought ... well ... Maybe you could prepare Sam a bit? Tell him that he's comin' and that he's gonna want to talk to him alone?" There was something hopeful in her voice. "Usually I'm not supposed to tell you but ... I think it'll be important for Sam to know and ... I figured it'd be only fair."  
Dean nodded and bit his lip thinking for a moment. "Garth who?"  
"Fitzgerald. A funny guy. Actually real nice, and well ... funny and a bit off the rocker." She chuckled amused.  
Reminded him of a scrawny dwarf who called himself a hunter. Well, he wasn't exactly a dwarf, but he wasn't tall either. And he was thin. And a bit of a nerd. Totally not common for an alpha.  
"Thanks?" Dean wasn't quite sure how to take her warning. After all they haven't had anything to hide.  
She told him that he had nothing to thank her for and that she wished them luck before they ended their conversation.  
Now that Dean thought about it, it was not the worst thing to know that this guy was coming over. After all they had some issues to solve at the moment. So maybe they'd straighten it out until the guy arrived anyway.  
He pocketed his phone again and let his head roll back against the side-lean, groaning.  
The only question was, how he was supposed to talk with Sam about that. He may as well had to go into the lion's cage ... Not that Sam was a lion. He was more of a puppy-dog. All floppy hair and giant innocent eyes. Milky white, tender looking skin and lips he would die for.  
Not to mention those dimples and the way he laughed or chuckled. How it looked like when Sam's long fingers curled around something, or the way he skipped a page in a book, licking over the tip of his pointing-finger.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Half an hour later, Sam's bladder was too full to hold back anymore. If he wanted or not, he had to go – or pee himself.  
Which wasn't an option at all. So he decided to leave his safe cave and dare to meet Dean on his way there. So he hopped from the bed and headed towards the door, which slid open and the ex-hunter's silhouette appeared there.  
Sam couldn't care less at the moment. Aka more pressing matters. So he brushed past Dean without looking at him and made a sharp turn into his bedroom and slammed the bathroom door shut behind him.  
Dean stood frozen in place, until he heard the unmistakable sound of the toilet being flushed. He turned around and leaned against the wall, as casual as possible, to wait for Sam to come back out.  
Though, like before, Sam stormed out of Dean's room, brushed past him and back into his own, throwing the door shut. He wasn't ready to face the ex-hunter right now. He had too many things to think about. Too much stuff that had to get sorted out.  
He crawled back into his bed, the late evening sun illuminating his room in a tender yellow and orange through white curtains.  
Sam sighed and buried his face in his knees.  
Then there was a knock.  
The omega decided to ignore it.  
Another knock, this time more urgent and "C'mon Sam. We need to talk."  
But he didn't let himself being known.  
"Dressed or not. I'm comin' in." And then Dean Winchester was already inside and walking towards him. Once arrived, he sat down at the bed's edge and a hand was laid on his knee. "We need to talk, Sammy. About what happened today at Bobby's."  
Sam turned his head towards the other side. It was weird how soothing the alpha's touch and scent were.  
Dean huffed out a sigh and cast his look aside for mere seconds before he looked back at Sam. "You know that it's not a big deal, okay?" He had to start somewhere and delaying it wouldn't do any good. "There are cross-dressers all over the world. And some of those guys make real nice lookin' women." He smiled a bit, trying to lighten the mood.  
But Sam turned his head further away from him, straining his neck. He didn't say anything. Maybe Dean was trying to make him feel better, but was he honest about what he was saying and the things he was going to say? Or would he only use his knowledge about this world's order to lure him into safety?  
Yeah, it was kind of weird to think that way. But what was he supposed to think?  
He had learned a lot about A/B/O dynamics and some things – they just didn't sound plausible. Why would an alpha or beta go on hunts with omegas? Why would they even include them in this life?  
Sure, Sam had read in one of Bobby's books about it. That they were as good at it as everyone else and that it didn't matter. Alphas were the fighters and destroyers in the war against evil and Omegas were more like the brain. They were the ones who'd do most of the research and stuff. It didn’t mean that Alphas were too stupid to do things like that. They were just ... different. Most hunters were loners anyway.  
Though, Sam couldn't imagine himself hunting down a werewolf or any other beast.  
He was drifting off with his thoughts again, completely forgetting the alpha who sat now a bit closer to him.  
"I know that it's kinda different with you. I know that - Either way it's nothing bad," Dean tried to reassure him with soft words. "Sam. C'mon. Look at me, buddy."  
He reached around and his calloused palm found Sam's cheek. "Look at me," his voice was even softer, tender.  
Sam couldn't but follow the gentle plea. He lifted his head a bit and turned it over, so that he was looking at the alpha. The older man's hand in between his knees and his head, still holding his cheek. Unconsciously, the omega turned into it, smelling old wood and oil and musk even more intensively now.  
Innocent hazel-green eyes peeked up at him through dark bangs. The late-evening sun letting Sam's eyes burn up in a weird rage of fiery green, blue and brown. Too many colors to name anyway.  
"It doesn't matter to me what you're wearing, okay? I mean it - You're a handsome g- person. I was just ... shocked." He flinched at his own choice of words. "Nah, shocked ain't the right expression. Taken aback. I ... I came to get you for lunch and thought you've fallen asleep or something and ... and then I see you, you know? All scrawny, skin and bones, wearing that white thing. And ... I just didn't know how to react to that, you know?" He knew he was babbling and high likely sounding nervous, but he didn't care.  
Sam gave a jerky nod, never breaking eye-contact while the alpha was talking. But he didn't mean it. Dean could tell.  
"Look. I'm tryin' to apologize here, Sammy ..." Dean sighed heavily, having the feeling that not a single one of his words reached the other man.  
He drew in a shuddering breath and his lips parted slightly.  
Hell, how could a single gesture like that look that good? Holy fucking shit, if it wasn't for the fact that Sam had been through what he had been through and if it wasn't for the fact that Dean was there to give him shelter, show him how the social stuff worked, he'd totally would've tried to bang him right on that bed.  
Yeah, even small Dean Winchester gave an interested jerk at that thought.  
"I'm a freak, Dean," Sam breathed out, his voice sounding as if he was going to break out in tears any second now. "I'm no woman and I'm no guy either. I'm ... Am I even human?" He sounded vulnerable and hurt. "What the hell am I?"  
There was a short pause, since Dean had to over-think his answer carefully. "You're human," Dean whispered gently. "And as far as I can tell you're a nice person. You can't influence what you're born. Boy or girl. But you can choose what you want to be like." He paused, letting his words sink in and search for other comforting stuff he could tell the younger man. "It doesn't matter what others think, you know? It doesn't matter what I or Bobby think about you as long as you're okay with it." Oh, how he wished John had said that to him – only once.  
Sam's long fingers curled around the hand's wrist which lay snug between his knees and cheek. His eyes fluttered shut and his lips parted again for a soft exhale of warm air. Air that ghosted over Dean's sensitive skin of the inside of his lower arm and made goosebumps rise all over his body.  
The omega uncurled and crawled the few inches towards Dean, curling back up beside him and leaning his head onto his shoulder.  
Sam watched carefully how the ex-hunter would react to the closeness. If he truly meant those words, if he wouldn't pull back or flinch away from him. If he wouldn't be disgusted.  
Dean didn't. Instead he snuck his arm around Sam's back and tugged him closer, letting him lean into him.  
It felt good. The warm body beside him. Soft hair tickling his neck. The closeness and emotional comfort Sam provided, making him feel whole again after so many years.  
The omega blew out a soft breath, making himself even smaller. Hell, he was a tight ball. Dean had no idea that someone tall like that could appear that small.  
It felt like their bodies – their souls – were melting into each other's becoming one. Singing along the lines of the same song. Following the same path though in different worlds, but knowing that they were at the right place at the right time.  
That was the moment Dean Winchester knew that – no matter how much another omega had hurt his family – Samuel T. Harvelle was his and that Dean was Sam's. That moment, Dean decided that he wouldn't let Sam go. Ever.  
Because he understood. Deep down he knew what Sam felt like on the inside. The turmoil of emotions about all of this.  
And he knew, that if he'd give everything he had to give, Sam'd know too. Would feel it. That Sam'd choose him to spend his life with.  
No matter how ridiculous this may sounded to an outsider, or how weird it made himself feel at first, this was right. Sam was right.  
They were two pieces of a whole.  
The Ying and the Yang.  
They were the Alpha and the Omega.

...... to be continued


	11. What Do We Live For?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews ARE Love!

Fields Of Jasmine  
Chapter 11 ~ What Do We Live For?

Half an hour later, they lay on Sam's bed on top of the covers. Sam was snuggled into Dean's side, who was lying on his back. There would've been no other way to make both men fit into the small bed.  
They didn't seem to care.  
Sam had his eyes open, one hand resting on Dean's chest right above his heart, counting its beats. The alpha's body was soft and warm beside his. All muscles and tanned skin under the shirt. He felt Dean's hand against his back in between his shoulder blades, stroking him fondly.  
The alpha held Sam close. He had his eyes closed, not wanting to see anything at the moment. He just wanted to feel. Feel how Sam was breathing in the same rhythm as him. Feel the rise and fall of the omega's ribcage against his.  
But most of all he enjoyed that this wasn't sexual at all. A fact which surprised the Winchester enormously. After all he had been quite a slut. Yeah, slut was a pretty hard word, but it was actually true. He hadn't even a clue how many partners he had in his life so far. He had stopped counting when he hit nineteen...  
He damn well never had cuddling sessions with someone else except for his pillow too. It had always been about picking a girl up and having some fun. He had never stayed long enough to cuddle though ...  
Alphas – specially Winchesters – Didn’t cuddle. That was a fact.  
He wasn't cuddling now either. He just had no clue how else to call it YET.  
A part of him was even afraid that if he'd open his eyes, that Sam'd be gone and that this was all a dream. So he kept his eyes shut and concentrated on feeling things.  
When the sky outside started to grow dark, Dean roused and dared to squint an eye open for the first time since they lay there. He tilted his head to the side and squinted his second eye open to see if Sam's evened out breaths meant that he was asleep.  
Sam wasn't.  
"I'm startin' to get hungry," Dean whispered hoarsely, gaining the omega's attention. "And someone's gotta throw logs into the heater."  
Sam shook his head no. "We've blankets," he murmured into Dean's shirt.  
Dean glanced down, concerned, and he shifted a bit, pushing Sam's head up a little in the process to make him look at him.  
"You haven't eaten since breakfast, Sammy," he said softly. "Can't afford you losing more weight. - You need it."  
Sam didn't look convinced.  
"Sammy?" It was a bit warning and had the hint of an order at its edges. He sighed. "Maybe you don't feel hungry - But I know ..." He paused, his face morphing into something honestly serious. "I know that sometimes ... when you haven't eaten in a while and ... Look, I understand, okay? But you need to, Sam. You have to get stronger. Besides, not eating doesn't solve anything."  
Sam only nodded.  
"Right?"  
Sam nodded again.  
"I wanna hear it, Sam," Dean demanded.  
"Right."  
"Good. So you're gonna make something to eat and I'll have a look at our heater." Dean rolled to the side and got out of bed before he could decide that Sam was right and that the only thing they needed was the blanket.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

A rusty-brown Ford van parked outside the property of Robert Singer.  
According to the towns-people he was a drunk weirdo, but good at repairing cars. That was about all she had been able to learn about the grizzled hunter from the people in town.  
Though there was no coming in. Wherever with the van or without it. The blonde girl had tried. Not the man-high chain-link fence was the problem. Not even the razor-like barb-wire on top of it.  
It was the devil's traps and some other fancy stuff the old man had secured his property with. A normal robber wouldn't have any problems to get in there and steal stuff. But demons? Werewolves? Vamps? Other monsters? Nope, no way. Singer's Salvage was like Fort Knox against the supernatural world.  
She snarled in dismay, as one of the amulets which hung from the barb-wire on top of the fence reflected the light of the setting sun directly at her. She had tried a couple of spells though, in case it was some kind of spell that secured the driveway. But it obviously wasn't. So her best bet was wherever salt or holy water ...  
And even if she'd be able to get in there somehow, there sure as hell would be other traps hidden, which would stop her from getting to the omega.  
"Ridiculous," she hissed, her lips formed into a thin line.  
If she wasn't able to get in there, she wouldn't be able to collect what was hers - At least not until Samuel would leave the property. But so far? No such luck. Hell, she couldn't even see where in that damn house he was holed up.  
She couldn't even make the house out – not to mention where they had put the omega. All she had was a damn binocular and a nightscope.  
"Bastards," she ground out through gritted teeth. No matter if she liked it or not – she had to make a call. A very unpleasant one. Soon the hunter's would notice that something was off with the freak they played host for, so they'd kill him or ... well, find a way to get rid of it another way.  
Either one of the possibilities would mean that she would pay dearly for fucking this up big time.  
She rose the bowl of brass before her, her fingers curling around the devilish looking heads tightly. She whispered old latin words at the red liquid inside and hummed satisfied when it started to bubble.  
"It's Meg. I found Samuel. Two hunters took him in. But we have a problem ..."

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Later that night – it was shy past eight -Dean and Sam were settled on the couch, the omega pressed up along Dean's side, there was a knock at their door.  
The alpha groaned, not wanting to get up anytime soon, but knowing that Bobby'd only stop by (after they had already seen each other this morning), that it had to be something important.  
Sam sat up faster than the alpha was able to move his aching bones, and pushed him back down gently. "I'll get the door," he said and got up.  
Dean watched the slight swing of the omega's hips as he sauntered over to the front door and smirked at the association of his mind with a supermodel on the catwalk. Of course Sam didn't walk like one at all, but there were hints that reminded the ex-hunter about it.  
Even though Sam was wearing loose sweatpants, and the oversized hoodie, he looked still handsome as hell.  
Dean hadn't been wrong. It was Bobby and he looked troubled. The alpha sat up and his eyebrows furrowed as he watched the older man brushing past Sam and walking straight into the living room towards where Dean was sitting on the couch.  
"What is it?" Dean asked, after the beta didn't start to speak.  
"We've a problem." Bobby paused and nodded towards the window, into the general direction of where the driveway led out of the Salvage. "We've company."  
Dean Winchester straightened up.  
Sam froze right where he stood.  
"What kind of company?" the ex-hunter asked immediately.  
"Brown Van. One Inhabitant – as far as I can tell." Bobby gestured towards the kitchen.  
Dean nodded, instantly understanding what his old friend meant and limped towards it. When he passed Sam, he brushed over his belly in an attempt to soothe him, reassure him that it'd be okay. He then went to the cabinet to the right and took out a bottle of Johnny Walker and three tumblers with which he limped back into the living room.  
Sam stood still where he had stopped, his heart pounding in his chest. Another tender brush of Dean's hand against his lower back let the tenseness bleed away a bit and he followed him, sitting down on the couch again.  
He felt miserable.  
Downright awful. Because whoever was out there was coming for him – at least it had to be that way, right?  
"You think they're comin' for Sam?" Dean sat down beside the omega and gestured to Bobby to sit down too.  
The grizzled hunter took a seat to their left in the recliner. "Guess so." His expression was grim.  
Dean filled the tumblers to the middle and handed everyone one. "The Salvage's secured. Whoever's out there won't be able to get in."  
Sam's head whipped towards the alpha. That one he hadn't known. Dean looked back at him. "They can't get you." He smiled a bit, his free hand finding Sam's knee.  
"Yeah. But the thing is. For now it's okay. But when Sam needs medical attention – or something else – just in case – we'll need to find a safe way out." Bobby said out loud. "We don't know how many are out there and what they're planning."  
Sam started to feel nauseous.  
"So ... no taking him out shopping." Dean pursed his lips. "Neither do we." He huffed out a breath. "First we need to know who's out there and why - If one of us leaves the Salvage they could use us to make a deal. Sam for you or me ..."  
There was thoughtful silence.  
"You've any idea how long?" Dean gulped down the amber liquid and filled the tumbler up again, putting it into the middle of the table.  
"At least two days. Maybe longer. Looks as if they're only observing at the moment."  
"That ain't good." Dean squeezed Sam's knee gently. "So we're gonna get them?"  
Bobby nodded. "We're gonna get them."  
The conversation flew by Sam's mind without him being able to understand. Only a few words caught in his fear-dazed mind like they're comin' for Sam? And Guess so. How many are out there. What are they planning. Using Bobby or Dean to trade for Sam.  
They made up a plan of how to get the drop on them – or it – without them or it noticing.  
Bobby had another glass, filled to the brim with Johnny Walker before he said goodbye to Dean and Sam.  
Sam still seemed absent, even when Bobby embraced him in a bear-hug. He was saying something to Dean and the alpha only nodded.  
Dean manhandled Sam into the bed in the alpha's room and went to lay beside him.  
"It's going to be okay, Sammy," Dean whispered, nuzzling into the younger man's hair from behind. "We're gonna find out."  
"Why not let me go?" the omega asked softly. "If they're-"  
"Nope." Dean stopped him. "We're not going there." He brushed over Sam's face tenderly, feeling the soft skin and even softer stubbles along his jaw. "They can come and try to get you."  
"It's dangerous," Sam whispered. "If they're anything like Henry-"  
"If they're anything like Henry Savanger, they won't even notice us sneaking up on them." Dean cocked an eyebrow.  
Sam sighed and closed his eyes, feeling Dean's fingers flutter over his belly right above his navel. The muscles underneath gave a twitch and for a short moment he thought he could feel something shift inside of him.  
"I don't want you to get hurt." The omega sighed again. "Not because of me."  
"If it wasn't for you we would've never known that there's more behind a dozen of weird deaths, Sam - If it wasn't for you, we wouldn't have a single surviving victim who can look into those old books trying to find the vamp's pet. If it wasn't for you getting free, we'd never know. We'd notice when it'd be already too late and we'd take off half-cocked." Dean explained calmly. "Besides ... I kinda like you, you know?"  
Sam chuckled shyly. "It's more, isn't it?"  
"Yeah ... it's more, Sammy," he whispered into the taller man's ear.  
"Why?"  
Dean didn't know why. "Fate?" He hummed. "You know that I hate omegas? At least I hated them back then. That was why I was so hard on you at first. Because you were an omega."  
"And now you don't?" Sam asked tentatively.  
"At least I don't hate you, baby boy." He smiled a bit, knowing that Sam knew exactly what he meant without having to say it out loud. "Can't tell about other omegas though."  
"Why's that?"  
"Maybe we're mates." The words were over his lips before he could think them through.  
Sam blew out a breath. "Duh."  
"You think?"  
"I'm pretty sure of it. Can't explain it any other way." Actually it wasn't like Dean to talk like that. Opening up so easy to another person. But with Sam it was different. He had the feeling that he could tell him those things. Things he wouldn't tell anyone else without having to kill them afterwards.  
Now Sam felt like a betrayer.  
Dean seemed to tell him things he didn't tell anyone else and Sam had still his secrets. Maybe important secrets...  
There was an outstretched episode of silence between the both of them.  
"Mates have to have sex, right?" Sam was curious. "They have to be together together, right?"  
"Nooo ... no." Dean choked on his words. "Hell, no, Sam. I don't think that they have to - It's up to the omega to make that choice anyway." Somehow – even when he hadn't thought about it yet (at least not that intensely) – they were far away from this part. Hell, they hadn't even kissed yet and there'd be no way Dean'd push. "Sometimes mates are just real good friends."  
He wouldn't say no either if the omega'd jump him right the fuck now. If his dreams were anything to go by, it'd be amazing anyway.  
"But you'd like to?" Of course Sam wouldn't stop asking questions now. "Wouldn't you?"  
Dean huffed out an embarrassed breath. "No." He lied. And he knew that Sam knew that he was lying. There was no way a mate wouldn't know. Besides he could feel it.  
"Liar." Sam pushed back against him. "But it's okay. I shouldn't ask you things like that anyway."  
Dean hummed. "I think we should go to sleep. We've got a lot of observing to do tomorrow."  
Sam hummed back at him and interwined his fingers with the ex-hunter's.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Another week passed.  
They stood closer than usual. They were touching at every occasion. They stuck together except when one of them had to go to the toilet or was taking a shower.  
And they hadn't kissed yet.  
Sam sensed mixed vibes from the Winchester. And with each passing day, he grew more and more irritated about them. Dean was always somewhere close to him but he wouldn't try to kiss him again. There weren't even attempts.  
There was a big telescope right in front of the small window on the attic. It looked old ... and rusty ... and a bit disgusting, but you could zoom in on the blonde girl in the van, so you could nearly see the hairs in her nose .. And it was a digital one. There was a screen on a small table in front of a dusty double-recliner Dean and Bobby had shoved in front of the table, so they didn't have to sprain their necks if they wanted to watch her.  
It was shy before eight on a Monday morning and Sam was sitting in the recliner, his eyes half-open, watching the night-scope-version of the woman fidgeting with the radio.  
He was annoyed, to say the least. Okay, it might have been only one week since they began observing her, but so far it was boring as hell. She didn't do anything, besides leaving the van four times until now – high likely to go pee.  
Sam was asking himself, when she slept ... He for his part was quite tired yet.  
Bobby had come home from the garage at about two in the afternoon yesterday and had went straight for the attic. The grizzled hunter had sent Dean downstairs to catch some sleep so he'd be ready for his night shift.  
Though, when Bobby came down at about seven last evening, Sam had already cooked sandwiches. The older man had intended to wake Dean, who had been fast asleep since the little cuddling-session with his omega right after he had come down from the attic.  
Sam could tell that Dean was hurting from the – for the ex-hunter – uncomfortable sitting-position in the double-recliner and that he was tired as hell. After all, Dean hadn't been sleeping good after the night Bobby had stopped by to tell them about their company.  
The least the omega could do was to take some of the ballast from Dean and carry it himself, since the men were only in this situation because of him. So Sam had told Bobby to let him sleep and have the rest he needed to and that he'd take the night shift.  
Bobby had grumbled something about Dean and that he'd kill him and stuff. But Sam didn't care. This was his shit and who else was supposed to deal with it? He could at least help and do what he could to make it easier on all of them.  
Sam curled up under the blanket and tugged it tighter around his shoulders while he continued to stare at the van. Only when he heard heavy hasty footfalls coming closer and someone climbing up the chicken-ladder towards the attic, he straightened up and forced his eyes wide open so that he wouldn't look as tired as he actually was.  
Though, he had imagined that Bobby'd come and that Dean was still asleep. But nope. It had to be the alpha of course. A very pissed alpha.  
Dean's head appeared atop the surface with flaring nostrils.  
"Holy shit, Sam," he grumbled as he made his way up. "What the hell are you thinkin'?"  
Maybe because of his slowly reacting mind and because he didn't really care about anything, he answered right away with the words he was thinking.  
"I was thinkin' that you need your sleep and that I could do my part in this," he answered. "And you were hurtin' and tired and I practically made Bobby let me do it."  
Dean stomped towards him and slumped down next to Sam with a thud. Dean seemed rested though still sleepy as if he had just woken up.  
"Bobby fell asleep too," the alpha muttered. "Guess we can't keep that schedule up ..." He didn't look at Sam.  
"I'm here though, aren't I? You have her here because of me." Sam looked at him with big eyes, watching the range of emotions on Dean's face. How he opened his mouth as if he was going to say something and then closing it again.  
Realization hit the omega. Hurt crept into his eyes and face. "You ... you think I can't do this, right? Because I'm no hunter, right?"  
"I only think that you shouldn't do it, okay?" Now he looked over at him. Serious. Not joking at all. "I don't want you to do it. You're still tired all the time. You sleep through the night and sometimes you're too exhausted to get through the day without a nap. You think I don't see it?" He paused, watching Sam look aside, very ashamed. "You forget to eat and drink when I don't remind you. Sometimes you seem scared ... and I don't even know why." He paused again. "You're a victim and you don't put a victim into a situation like that. Not even when the victim wants it."  
Dean laid his hand on Sam's thigh, but the omega pulled back.  
"Look. I'm not saying that you can't do this, okay? I just want you to get better before you hop on a train with a conductor who doesn't know an emergency break. You'll exhaust yourself, Sam ..." He wanted him to understand. This was important.  
Sam nodded to himself as he turned aside, hiding his watery eyes from the alpha.  
"I just want to help ... I ... I don't want to be useless. I don't want to sit downstairs on the couch and watch TV or even sleep while you guys try to protect me from whatever's out there, Dean. I ... I can't watch that. Bobby's bone-tired when he comes home from the Salvage and ... and then he eats and lies down and then he goes to gets you somewhere close to midnight and ... and I can't watch that anymore. You both are exhausted. I can see it. I can FEEL it, Dean." The alpha had to understand what this was doing to him.  
There was a hint of bitterness in the alpha's eyes as Sam looked up to meet his gaze, his hands trembling.  
"Are you cold?" Despite the fact that Sam had pulled away earlier, he reached over and took the omega's hands in his.  
They weren't cold.  
Sam shook his head, averting Dean's gaze again. "No. I'm good," he answered softly. "Maybe just fatigue."  
The alpha eyed Sam for a long moment. "People don't shake when they're tired, Sammy." He shot back calmly, though concerned. "C'mon. Let’s get downstairs and get some food into you. You gotta watch out for yourself. Okay?" He caught Sam's gaze and the omega nodded, embarrassed.  
Dean rose and bit back a groan when something in his hip pinched painfully. He still held Sam's hands as he stood up and forced himself to stand upright instead of giving into the need to curl into himself.  
Sam eyed him warily as he rose to his feet. "Okay," he murmured, fighting a wave of dizziness.  
He sucked in a deep breath, trying to will his suddenly revolting stomach to calm down. He tightened his grip on Dean's hold.  
The alpha was too busy keeping his own emotions buried to notice Sam's discomfort though.  
They both made their way to the hatch in the floor. Dean started to climb down first and stopped to look up and wave at Sam to follow him suit.  
Sam did. Still fighting dizziness and nausea. He could lay down in a minute. He just had to hold out a bit longer. Only a little bit. He turned around and managed to put his right foot onto the upper rung without any problems. Even his second foot found it despite the weakness, which slowly started to crawl into his limbs, turning his knees into jelly.  
Dean climbed one further down, waiting until Sam's foot was safely on the next one. The alpha noticed the shakiness in Sam's body. He sensed it more than actually seeing it. It was the discomfort and unease which mixed with the omega's scent that made him alert.  
"Sammy? You okay?" he asked worriedly as he set his foot further down.  
Sam hadn't time to come up with an answer. Before he even realized it, black dots started to crawl into his vision and he felt himself fall before he blacked out completely.  
Dean saw the omega's foot slip from the rung and before he could react and hold tighter onto the ladder, Sam's weight landed on him and sent the both of them flying backwards as the alpha's hands slipped. Instinctively, the ex-hunter tried to catch himself and fought for a moment to get his hands back onto the ladder but it was no use.  
He landed in the corridor on the wooden floor – hard. Sam's weight pushing all the air out of his lungs, as the prone form landed atop of him. Fighting to get air back into his lungs, Dean's eyes teared up.  
Finally – mercifully – he managed to suck in a wheezing breath which made his lungs burn awfully. "Sam," he gasped, clutching at the limp body on top of him. "Sammy."  
Holy shit, that hurt. And Sam was heavier than he looked.  
"Boys!" he heard a gruff voice call and heavy thumps of boot-clad feet approaching. "Shit, what the hell happened?" The older man sank to his knees beside the heap of tangled limbs. "Dean? You okay?"  
Unable to get a grip on his foggy brain and form any other word than Sammy, he made a noise close to whimper.  
"Boy?" Bobby asked again, utter concern in his voice and on his face.  
"Sammy," he whispered instead of giving him a proper answer. "He fell."  
"Took ya' with him?" Of course – how else would they have ended up like that on the floor?  
Dean nodded, his hand wandering over Sam's chest, trying to search for injuries or ... whatever. Maybe he was even looking if he was still breathing.  
Bobby's eyes narrowed at the unconscious form atop of Dean. "He's breathin' boy." He searched for the man's pulse. "He's okay. Pulse's a bit erratic, though."  
Dean's head thumped back against the floor, his flat palm resting on Sam's stomach feeling him breathe.  
"He passed out ... on his way down." Dean grumbled and winced as he tried to move.  
"Whoa, boy. Stay down." Bobby pushed him back. "You could've hurt your back."  
Dean glared at him. "The only thing's that hurt's my pride, old man. Get him off of me." He groaned. "We gotta lay him down somewhere. Sam didn't feel well when I came up."  
Bobby nodded and lifted Sam's torso carefully, letting him rest against his front. Dean shoved himself out under the octopus-like limbs and stood up. Groaning and wincing as he straightened up and rubbed over the back of his head. There was already a lump forming.  
"Fuck," he cursed.  
"You sure you okay?" Bobby eyed his friend curiously, while he tried not to jostle Sam too much.  
Dean growled instead of searching for words and instantly went to check on Sam's pulse again, taking him out of Bobby's arms at the first opportunity he had.  
"I'll take him. Couch?" Dean was already back on his feet with the tall omega on his arms, carrying him bridal style.  
Bobby nodded. "Yeah. Somewhere we can have a close eye on him." He sounded guilty.  
They made their way downstairs without any further incidents. Bobby went straight into the kitchen, getting two glasses of water while Dean settled Sam onto the couch. The younger man's skin started to become clammy, his face was pale. Too pale.  
When the grizzled hunter came back with the glasses and water, he set them on the coffee table. "Somethin' broken?"  
Dean had both hands on Sam's head, searching his skull for signs of an injury but found none except for a small goose egg on the omega's temple. Dean continued to grope along Sam's jaw, neck and throat, his fingers resting on his pulse for a few minutes before he moved further down, paying special attention to Sam's arms, ribs and legs.  
Then he shook his head. "Nothing feels broken," he murmured, but repeated the procedure nonetheless.  
"I'm sorry, boy. I didn't mean to fall asleep."  
"I know." Dean couldn't be mad at him. Not at all. The both of them had been exhausted and tired. So he figured this was predestined to happen at some point. And he didn't mean Sam fainting, he was talking about the both of them missing a shift. "It's okay, Bobby. It's not your fault."  
The grizzled hunter made a sound which didn't sound approving at all.  
"He fainted? Just like that?"  
Dean nodded. "No. He was a bit shaky at first ..." He bit his lower lip, looking Sam over once more. "He shouldn't do things like that, Bobby," Dean added softly.  
"He's a sneaky one, boy. He sent me lying down for an hour or so and when I woke up an angry limping ex-hunter hovered over my damn face and was yelling at me." Bobby huffed out an amused breath, though back then it hadn't been funny at all. "Guess he meant it good."  
"He wanted to take care of us for once." A sigh fell from Dean's lips, as he brushed dark bangs out of Sam's face, seeing color crawling back into his face. "He doesn't want to be the one who has to be watched out for." He spoke as if he knew Sam inside out. As if – whatever the omega was feeling – he could feel it too.  
Bobby vanished and came back a moment later with a blanket.  
A shiver ran through Sam's unconscious form, when Dean leaned in closer and placed a tender kiss to his forehead. The alpha pulled the recliner up beside the couch and shoved the small table aside so he could be closer to Sam. He then sat down on it, his hand near the omega's cheek, running his pointing-finger along his jaw.  
"You look a bit pale too, Dean." Bobby pointed out when he returned soon after with a plate of scrambled eggs, ham, bacon and three slices of toast. "You sure you didn't get hurt?"  
"Nah." He waved at him. "Just my hip – ya' know ..."  
Bobby nodded, but didn't seem as if he was believing him fully. "You got your pills handy?"  
Dean nodded as he sat up with a wince and pulled the bottle from his jeans to show it.  
"I'll let Sam's on the counter for when he wakes up. Gotta head out in twenty minutes anyway – Caleb's gonna be waitin' for me already." The grizzled hunter glanced towards the front door. "You've any clue what she is yet?"  
The alpha shrugged as he washed a hand over his face. "No idea. She doesn't seem to sleep a lot though. And when she seems to, it doesn't look like the cold's bothering her at all. A human would've been frozen to death out there already. - My best bet would be a vamp."  
"I see what I can do about it. Since she seems to be alone out there ..." Bobby pursed his lips. "I'll call Jody. Let her know what's going on and call her to send Jo and Caleb over. We'll get her tonight before one of us drops dead because of exhaustion." He huffed out another breath. "Ellen, Jody, Joshua, Jo and me should be enough to get that bitch down."  
Dean gave him a quizzical look.  
"Nope. You won't come with - You'll stay here with Sam. I bet your back's gonna be bruised to hell in a couple of hours. So do yourself a favor and get some damn pills into you and lie down." He gave him a pointing look and used this father-voice which he couldn't say no to.  
At least Dean thought that this was supposed to be a father-voice. After all he only knew John's father-voice – which had been quite military and drill-sergeant-like.  
Then again – he didn't want to leave Sam alone anyway.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Half past nine, someone was ringing and knocking at Bobby's door.  
Dean who had been watching Sam like a hawk for the past hour and wouldn't notice anything else but Sam's even breathing, sucked in a sharp breath and practically jumped from the recliner.  
The bell rang again.  
The alpha gazed back down at Sam thoughtfully, not really wanting to leave his side. Though he had to get his ass moving and answer the door. Since nothing but humans could come on the Salvage, Dean figured it was safe and that it was only the postman ...  
... Well, he had been right about the human-thing, but not about the postman. There was a short scrawny guy in a suit standing in front of the door, who wore dark sunglasses and held a patch right beside his face.  
Counselor of the State of South Dakota  
Garth Fitzgerald  
His signature and some other guy's signature and the giant C and the outlines of South Dakota printed beside it.  
"Garth?" Dean asked with wide eyes. "Honestly?" He had completely forgotten about the appointment with the counselor who was supposed to come by on Monday. - Well, it was Monday. And it was half past nine. And the counselor was here. But Garth? "What the hell, man?"  
Dean's voice was a mixture of suspicion, confusion and surprise.  
"Hey, Dean-O." He greeted the taller man with a huge grin on his thin lips. "Figured you wouldn't need some suit to check on your omega." Garth pushed past Dean and stepped into the hallway, not waiting for an invitation. He turned around once and dropped the navy-blue bag on the ground. "Thought I'd hack into the system and get your guys on my schedule after I heard about an ominous appearance of a club-manager around here and stuff ..." he explained.  
"You ...?"  
"Yeah. Did some research about an omega called Samuel T. Harvelle popping up in the system and read where he's from … Besides: Bobby called me short after you guys found him." Garth never failed to amaze others. No matter how lanky and naive he seemed sometimes, he was a nice guy. Sometimes too nice for a hunter - And way too small for an alpha. That guy was honestly the smallest alpha Dean had ever seen. Either his parents had been dwarfs ... "And when he popped up again about in the system six weeks later again, I figured you guys could need some help." He smiled up at Dean broadly.  
"Oookay ..." Dean gestured him into the kitchen. "Sam's sleeping though." he said a bit quieter.  
That changed everything. If they'd have Garth as counselor, they didn't have to hide things. SAM wouldn't have to hide things. And best of all, he'd declare them as capable about looking out for Sam.  
"He's livin' with you?" Garth leaned back against the table and took the coffee gratefully Dean handed him.  
Dean gave him a quizzical look.  
"That's what's written in his file." he declared.  
Dean nodded. "Yeah. Usually we're at my house ..." He pointed into the direction where the driveway was. "We've company."  
"Brown big van?" Garth sipped on his coffee. "Blonde cute girl behind the wheel?"  
Dean nodded. "Yeah. - observing her since about a week now. Looks like a vamp to me."  
"But she doesn't seem to be uncomfortable in the sun- Something else maybe?"  
"Nah. Gotta be a vamp," Dean demanded. "One of Savanger's nest maybe."  
Garth pursed his lips. "Yeah. You're right. You gonna get her on the yard some time soon?"  
"Tonight. Bobby's getting Ellen and Jody to come along. You're in?" He asked with a smirk, already knowing the answer.  
Garth nodded, a spark of intuition lighting up in his eyes before it died away again. "But first ..." He looked very serious now. "We need to talk. I found some things that are gonna be important."  
Dean's eyes narrowed and the light mood slipped away from him the very moment he saw the seriousness in Garth's eyes.

..... to be continued


	12. Sun's Goin' Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always: THANK YOU to my lovely Beta & those who are following & reviewing this story.   
> It means a lot :)

Fields Of Jasmine  
Chapter 12 ~ Sun's Goin' Down

Dean sat down at the kitchen table and gestured towards the seat opposite him while he held his gaze on Garth. The scrawny alpha sat down with a sigh and laid his briefcase on the table from where he extracted a file.  
He handed it to Dean who took it with a short nod. "What's that?"  
"Samuel T. Harvelle's past." Garth sighed. "I found quite a bit until he hit the age of sixteen. That was when his parents died in a house fire." The scrawny guy leaned back, his big gray-blue eyes open wide. "Then he just ... vanished."  
"He did what?" Dean's eyes narrowed at the file.  
"Looks like he was a hunter, Dean." Garth pursed his lips. "Made himself quite a name in the scene."  
"How come I didn't ever come across him then? Besides ..." He huffed out a not humorous laugh. "... He doesn't look like a hunter, buddy. Ever had a look at him? I sure as hell would've heard of a hunting omega, don't you think?"  
Garth shrugged, a mischievous grin on his lips. "He didn't go by his real name and even lesser with his gender. Guess he wanted to avoid just that." The little guy cocked an eyebrow at his friend as he waved towards him.  
"Aw, shut up, Garth," Dean grumbled and flipped the file open. "How come Jody didn't find out anything about it?"  
"Cause he managed to generate a pretty good false identity for himself - Even Ash didn't manage to figure it out yet. Jody could only find what Sam – over there – "Garth waved towards the living room. "Wanted the orderlies to find in case something happened or someone would miss him. OR he'd pop up in a hospital badly wounded." He gestured towards the file again. "And for the hunting omega part: You might've heard about suppressants? Red little pills? He hadn't been seen at the Roadhouse either – nor in any other hunter's safe house so far. But they were whispering about a shadow. Sometimes hunters would head somewhere for a haunt or werewolf or something and when they arrived it was already done and wrapped up? How come that some hunters got saved by some mysterious tall figure in the dark before they got ripped to shreds or mauled on?"  
"Sure I heard about that. Happened to me once or twice too. The coven in Idaho and ... I guess there was that Wendigo-thing in North Dakota. They were gone before I got there." Dean started to think a bit harder. Of course he had heard about a shadow (how he had heard other hunters call the giant nobody who used to beat them in fighting the evil). But that guy over in the living room?  
Sam looked freaking broken and weak and ... not like he was a killer at all. A giant softy at best, fighting by smothering someone to death ... That's what he was. Just. Not. A. Killer.  
"Why would you think that?" Of course he had to ask even when it didn't sound believable at all. Garth was someone to interpret stuff into stuff which he turned into a soft fluffy cotton-ball so it'd sound mysterious and cool. Who didn't want some good power – a superhero – to be out there? Making the unbelievable believable.  
"Because." The younger man's face lit up with excitement. "When Samuel T. Harvelle vanished, the shadow vanished too. No reports from others of the network that a monster got snatched away before they arrived. Not a single haunting solved." He rose his hands, gesturing around with them wildly. "It has to be him, Dean. Sam's our shadow." He beamed at the hunter as if he was explaining the solution for why the earth was spinning around itself and the sun and why it existed at all.  
"Garth," Dean huffed and rolled his eyes. "There's no shadow-hunter and there never was one."  
"I'm tellin' you that he is." For Garth this guy was something like proving that there were aliens out there somewhere. Like he had found the evidence that Elvis Presley was still alive and had caught him on film.  
"No one ever saw that guy. He's an urban legend among our folks." He didn't believe it at all. That was just too ... crazy. An omega taking suppressants to not be smelled at all? No one could tell what he was and that would make people think that he was an omega taking suppressants. But then again ... If he used a whole lot of cologne or perfume everyone would think he's a scent-junky or something.  
Dean cocked an eyebrow at the man and gazed at him in disbelief. He then laid the file back on the table and closed it.  
"The file's full of your so-called evidences that Sam – my Sam – is the shadow?" Of course, because even when Garth was quite a chaotic mess sometimes, he was very precise and careful with his obsessions. Such as The Shadow (how Garth had named him).  
The shorter man nodded furiously, still beaming at Dean like a kid on Christmas.  
"You won't tell Sam about your assumptions, understand?" It was a warning. "He's in no condition to even think about stuff like that at the moment. You understand?" Dean just didn't want a crazy fan-boy cornering the omega. Garth’s looks would creep Sam out enough anyway.  
Garth nodded furiously. "You're gonna have a look at them, right?" It seemed to be like Christmas for him though, so Dean couldn't say no. He wouldn't. And he knew he'd regret it later on, but he'd have a look at the alpha's collection of weirdness – just for his and the other man's peace.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

The two sat in the kitchen for quite some time. Dean listened to the other alpha's explanations rather annoyed, glancing towards the living room every now and then.  
Dean sensed it before he heard a muffled "Dean." It felt like a call, a pull in his gut and chest.  
He was up on his feet from where he had been sitting opposite of Garth in a second and on his way into the living room.  
"Sammy?" His gaze immediately darted towards the couch and the utterly distressed scent that took him over right when he came closer to it.  
"D'n?" He sounded as awful as he looked.  
He was beside the omega in a second and kneeled down, searching his pulse and counting it down. It was strong and though a bit too fast still. "How're you feelin'?" He smiled down at him, his hand finding its way on Sam's cheek.  
"Don't feel so good," Sam murmured, hazy dazed half-open eyes darting towards him. "Dizzy."  
"You hurtin' somewhere?" he watched the omega like a hawk. "Your head? Back?"  
Sam nodded. "Did I hurt you?" he murmured, only half awake.  
Dean chuckled and shook his head, holding Sam's gaze. "Nah. You can't hurt batman, can you?"  
A small tired smile tugged on the omega's lips. "You're not batman. You're batman's trusty sidekick." Now he smirked and wiggled his left eyebrow.  
The alpha's smile widened and turned into a cocky smirk. "I am batman." He leaned in closer, making them share their breaths. Their noses barely touched, when Dean cupped the omega's face in his hands tenderly. "And you're something like ... like ... cat-woman or something ... All lanky and – well, you don't have boobs. No tail. You can't jump from the fifth story without breaking ya' bones," he babbled whispering against Sam's lips. "But you’re my boy, Sammy."  
Their lips were brushing against each others while he added those few last words. "You're probably everything I've ever wanted without knowing though. And you scared the living shit out of me back then. Just fainting like that ..."  
Maybe it wasn't quite the right place, or the right time, but he felt like he had to say it now or he wouldn't ever do it. And then he sealed his lips over Sam's tender ones.  
Dean's tongue darted out slightly, trailing it along Sam's lower one, asking for permission. And without hesitation, Sam opened up to him. Let him in. All tangy pheromones and sweet jasmine. The soft scent of the flowers filling the room even when there weren't any.  
It was all Sam's.  
Only Sam. No one else but the omega and his alpha for a very long moment. It felt like time stood still while they shared gentle kisses.  
When they broke apart, it was like the world started to spin again in slow motion until their bodies caught up with it again, finding themselves in the real world.  
Dean grunted when he sat back on his heels, one hand staying on Sam's cheek. He gasped and bit back a wince, when the muscles of his back protested. When he'd take a shower tonight he'd probably see vivid bruises all along his left side where he had hit the floor.  
"You're hurt," Sam murmured worriedly. His hand came up and he brushed with his knuckles along Dean's stubbed jaw. "I ... I didn't want to ..." Sam cast his look away in shame. Dean had gotten hurt because of him. Only of him. "I'm sorry," he breathed.  
"It's fine. Only a couple of bruises." Dean gave him a reassuring smile. It hurt to see that kind of hurt on Sam's face. The guilt. Sam's eyes shone with unshed tears. "Sammy," Dean sighed. "I won't lie to you, okay? I've had worse. Trust me."  
The omega gestured towards Dean's leg.  
"No. Not worse than my old bones." He gave him a wink and a cocky grin. "Nothing my pills can't deal with, okay?"  
Sam nodded, still not looking him in the eyes.  
"So. First - I want you to sit up and get your blood going again. Then you'll get a strong coffee and breakfast. And THEN well ... we've a visitor." He nodded towards the kitchen. "You're up for it?"  
Sam sucked in a sharp breath. "The counselor," he murmured flabbergasted "I forgot." He swallowed hard, staring at Dean in shock. "How ... how long? When did he come ... I" He started to struggle with the blanket but Dean stopped him by helping him sit up but wouldn't let him get to his feet. Yet.  
"It's fine, Sammy. I know him." He smirked. "He's ... Garth's a hunter himself. It's fine."  
"But ... HOW?" Sam's eyebrows furrowed and pulled together. "Did you ..."  
"No. We didn't call him. I'll explain it all later, okay? First you're gonna drink and eat or I'll force-feed it to you."  
Sam nodded again, his heart racing in his chest. Of course there was another scent lingering on Dean's clothes besides the musk and old wood and oil and metal. Of course there was a hint of something more ... lighter. A salty tang.  
"Another alpha?" he asked looking up at Dean with wide eyes, a hint of panic on his features.  
"Yeah, another alpha," he answered right away, not shying away though he sensed the omega's fear. "There's no need to worry. He's harmless. Really." He stole a kiss from Sam's lips as he rose. "I know him. He's like you and me, Sammy."  
The omega didn't believe him completely though. There was always something weird about meeting new people – about being close to them. Like in the same room for example. Or even the same house.  
His eyes moved restlessly up and down over Dean, swallowing hard, reaching for his wrist to hold him back. "Please." Sam's voice was weak. His stomach cramped achingly at that.  
"It's okay, Sammy," he tried to reassure him. "You'll see, okay?"  
Sam's gaze flickered towards the hall and then back at Dean. "You won't leave me alone with him. Right? You'll be here. Right?"  
Sure, Sam was pretty nervous and upset, about certain things. Generally about new things. But seeing him that scared? That was different. Sam had never looked that scared since he was with Dean.  
"Of course I will." He smiled sympathetically at him. "I won't leave you alone with him, okay? I won't let him get near you." Dean felt ridiculous about it, since he knew the small scrawny guy next door like a brother. That guy couldn't kill a fly. Well, as long as it was non monster-fly.  
It was like talking about a cute puppy without teeth biting someone. Though, he could understand Sam’s worries. He didn’t know the man yet. And Alpha usually meant big, muscled guy. Maybe even bigger than Sam himself. Definitely someone with way more strength that Sam had at the moment.  
All the people he had met so far until they had found him in the woods hadn't been very nice towards him anyway.  
"You gonna be okay for two minutes or so?" Dean figured, the calmer he stayed, the calmer Sam would stay.  
Sam gave him a nervous smile and nodded, as he let Dean's wrist go.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Ten minutes later, the alpha came back, drawing the salty stench of the other one with him into the room. Sam's gaze snapped up towards the arriving familiar form, wearing a pleased smile on his face and a plate with food in his left hand and a cup of coffee in his right one.  
He sat the things down onto the table and sat down beside Sam, biting back another wince as the bruised skin of his back made contact with the backrest. Well, it came out as a choked gasp anyway.  
Sam leaned up against Dean's side.  
What wasn't quite what Dean wanted though. Sure cuddling was nice and having Sam so close was even nicer, but he actually wanted something else more at the moment.  
"C'mon. You go and eat, baby," he nudged him with his knee and straightened up.  
Sam sighed. He knew there was no way around, besides he truly felt hungry. So he sat up, his head spinning a bit as he had to change his position to inch forward on the couch and reach for the plate. He grasped for it and grabbed it with shaky fingers to put it on his lap.  
There was a heap of scrambled eggs, five stripes of bacon, two pancakes, two sausages and three slices of fresh toast. Well, and a fork.  
Sam gave Dean a quizzical look.  
"You go and eat." Dean smiled at him warmly.  
His stomach made an interested gurgling noise. "Yeah, think I will."  
Dean watched the omega eat piece by piece, taking small sips of coffee in between. Sam ate slowly and chewed well, moaning every now and then at the delicious taste of the food in his lap. When he had emptied the coffee, Dean went straight to get him another one with a second spoon full of sugar.  
Sam washed down the last few reminders of food with it when he was done with the plate.  
He burped and leaned back with a content sigh. "That was awesome."  
Dean beamed at him proudly. "Yeah," it was barely a whisper over damp lips. "You think it's okay if I get Garth?"  
Sam's face fell and his emotions seemed to shift and crawl towards a way darker place. He only nodded once and wouldn't look up at Dean.  
"You'll see. It'll be fine." Dean winked at him and leaned in, placing a tender kiss to his cheek. "Okay?"  
Sam stole a glance at him and shook his head, letting long bangs hide the scar on his face.  
"Sammy. Okay?" he asked again, cradling the omega's face in his hands and made him look up. "He's harmless. I promise. I need to hear you sayin' it."  
"Yeah," Sam murmured. "It's okay." and offered a nervous smile.  
Dean stole another soft kiss from Sam. He let go of Sam's face. "I promise, Sam, okay? You'll be just fine. WE'll be fine."  
Sam nodded again. "Sure."  
Dean watched the omega some more, but decided that it'd be better if he would get to know Garth rather sooner than later. The sooner Sam'd see that Garth was no threat, the sooner he'd learn that no one of Dean's friends would hurt him deliberately. That he was safe and that each and every one of them would protect him as it was needed.  
"Garth!" Dean called out. "You can come in!"  
His voice was like thunder in the silence and made Sam flinch and inch closer towards him.  
Not a second later, a short scrawny guy came around the corner, kind of a light swing in his movements showing how excited he was to meet the omega.  
"Hey there, dude." Garth grinned broadly, his blue-gray eyes lighting up. He chuckled.  
Sam squinted up at him, taking him in from tip to toe. His nose told him that this had to be an alpha, but by the looks of it he looked like an omega. Rather a beta. He stared up at the man, as he extended his hand towards Sam.  
He gazed up at the alpha, studying his features before he looked at the hand. It was small in comparison to his own. So much smaller.  
Hesitantly, he reached for it and took it carefully.  
Garth's smile grew wider and he squeezed Sam's hand enthusiastically, despite the fact that Sam was about to withdraw his again.  
Dean cleared his throat. And Garth let go. Eventually.  
The small man sat down at the table and sighed happily. "So ..." He patted his own thighs and drew in a deep breath.  
Sam kept on eyeing him.  
"... I'm a friend," he said, still smiling broadly. "And ... I ... You're huge!" He chuckled again, this tome sounding more nervous.  
The omega's eyebrows furrowed and he looked at Dean as if he'd be able to explain why the hell this man seemed so ... off his rocker about meeting him.  
Dean just shrugged and when Sam looked back at Garth, he gave the shorter man a meaningful glare. Garth seemed to get the message, though he was still looking at the omega as if he was the cookie jar in mom's kitchen.  
"Thanks?" Sam's eyebrows were risen. "And you ... you're ... short." He didn't quite know what to say, but he knew he had to say something. "But ... you seem to be nice," he corrected himself eagerly.  
Garth didn't even seem to notice the rather uneasy retort and waved at him. "So ... I need to send them a report about you and how you are doing. So ... You look good, Sam." He beamed at him.  
Sam smiled a bit. "Yeah. Bobby and Dean're real nice."  
"Have you gone outside of the Salvage yet?"  
Sam shook his head. He wasn't eager to leave Bobby's property anyway. "No."  
"No problem. I'll tell them you're going out on a regular basis. Gettin' groceries and stuff. You've gained weight?"  
Sam looked up at Dean quizzically, asking him if that was even important.  
Garth caught up on his confusion. "Amelia wrote into her report that you're underweight. That's why I have to report about it too. So I take it, yes?"  
Dean gave him a sharp nod. "Yeah. He did. Though not a lot."  
"You're a hunter too?" Sam blinked at him and Garth nodded.  
"Yeah. I'm kind of. I took your case. Figured it'd be better you've got me instead of some other douche-bag. I know how they're working and ... well ... You don't look that good to be honest, so they'd assume you don't do well and ... other things. I've had a look into your files and everything and I figured – since I know Bobby and Dean – that'd be better you've got me here in case someone's still after you." He smiled, though a bit more confident now. "Right?"  
Dean nodded. "Right."  
Sam’s eyes widened. "Dean. - There's someone upstairs to have an eye on the van?" There was a hint of panic to his voice.  
Dean shook his head. "No." He put a reassuring hand on the younger man's shoulder. "But we've Jo and Joshua out there having an eye on her. They're not gonna leave her out of their watch until tonight."  
Sam eyed the alpha carefully, trying to read in between the lines. "You're not goin' right?" Sam swallowed. "You're not up for it."  
Dean huffed out a dry laugh. "Nah. I'm stayin' here with you. Bobby won't let me go with and I guess he's right. I feel kinda sore." It wasn't him to admit stuff like that a lot. And though he was kind of glad that he was sore. Without the Vicodin it'd be a lot worse though than just feeling sore.  
"You're going to ... you know ... question her?" Sam blinked at him, then at the other alpha.  
"We need some more answers and if she knows something. Anything. We've to know." His voice was soft, reassuring. "So ... when we take her back here, Garth's goin' to take you back to my house, okay?"  
Sam gazed at him confused. "Why not you?"  
"Because I've to be there, okay?" Dean looked at him intently, wanting him to understand how important this was for him.  
"But there's Bobby ... and there'll be the sheriff ..." Sam’s heartrate sped up, his breaths became faster. Just because the others trusted Garth didn't mean that he had to. And it definitely didn't mean that he would like to have the scrawny guy's company.  
"Yeah. But ... there are some things you don't know about me, Sam. And that. That's something I can do way better than Bobby or the others ..."  
"You mean torture?" Sam wasn't stupid. "You're not going to kill her before she told you things, right?" Sam looked at him, his eyes shining a bit. "That's why you don't want me around?"  
"Yeah." Dean looked serious. He knew how very wrong it had to sound to someone else. Torture. Hurting someone deliberately. Even when it was a monster. He saw it in Sam's eyes. All over his face.  
Now he felt weirdly bad.  
Sam swallowed hard and nodded as he looked aside. He didn't need to understand, the omega told himself.  
"I don't want it near you. So ... Garth’s gonna take you back to our house where you're safe."  
"Where I won't hear her scream." Sam murmured.  
"I'm not that bad of a company," Garth spoke up. "We'd get to know each other a bit better. We can watch TV or something."  
"You are going to torture someone ..." Sam huffed out a breath. "Dean. I told you that I don't know her. That she may not even have been with the nest." He looked up at him with big eyes.  
"You only knew five of them – including Savanger." He gave him a pointing look in return. "She could be one of them. We need to know, Sam. It's important. We need to know why they abducted people. And why they took you."  
"Without killing me instantly you mean?" Sam asked.  
Dean nodded.  
There was a beat of tense silence.  
Garth looked more uncomfortable with every passing second.  
"Okay. I'll go with Garth," Sam murmured, his look cast into his lap. "But I'd rather you didn’t make her." He gave him a look. "It's not her fault she ended up as a vampire. Maybe there's some kind of cure ... something we can do to change her back?" Hopeful big eyes gazed at him, thrilling into him. Nailing him right where he sat. "She'd be human again ... She would tell us."  
Dean bit his lower lip, thinking. He didn't know about a cure. Hell, he had never thought about a cure either. If there was one, it wasn't something any hunter was practicing. "Sam ... there's no cure for that." He gazed at him pitifully.  
"What if no one found it yet? What if ..." Sam thought. A migraine started to flare up again as he thought. He didn't know why ... or how ... but he had the feeling that there was more about curing monsters. He just knew it. "I don't know ... it's like I ..." He touched his left temple with his pointing-finger. The more he tried to catch the trail of thoughts that let him ASSUME that he had to know something about that stuff, the more it increased.  
Sam sucked in a sharp breath through gritted teeth.  
"Sammy?" The syllables were dripping with concern.  
"I know, Dean. I KNOW," he ground out.  
"What do you know?" the alpha asked. "What is it?"  
Dean was suddenly there, right up beside him, kneeling on the couch.  
"I fuckin' know." Sam gasped, clutching his head, fisting his hair tightly as the ache increased.  
The alpha curled his hands over Sam's. He withstood his first impulse to yell at Sam, make him snap out of it.  
Instead he bowed down, brought his lips close to Sam's ear so that he had to feel his warm breath against his skin.  
"Baby," he whispered. Only hearable for the omega. "Stop it, Sammy. Whatever you're doing. Stop it." His voice was calm and gentle despite his racing heart and raw nerves. "Shshsh ... stop it ... I'm here, okay? Whatever it is. Whatever you try to do in that giant brain of yours - Stop it." Dean closed his eyes, breathing warmly into Sam's ear, making him feel, making him listen.  
Sam squeezed his eyes shut. He could hear his alpha talking. He could hear and feel him so close. His scent everywhere. Pulling him back from the edge of losing consciousness, of trying to get to the wellspring behind that particular glimpse of a thought. Of healing a vampire.  
Sam gasped. "Dean," he whimpered, his breaths coming out in short hacked gasps.  
"Yeah, I'm here. I'm here, baby boy." Dean continued reassuringly. "Deep breaths - Just deep breaths, Sam. In and out ... in ... and out."  
The omega eased the grip on his hair and head until he let go. Eventually he took Dean's hands in his, holding them to his head. Dean buried his fingers in the omega's hair, moving his lips up to the man's temple.  
Sam's breaths slowed down gradually.  
"That's it, baby boy." Dean's voice was low, husky.  
Eventually, Sam’s breaths calmed down.  
Dean gathered him in his arms and held him close to his chest, rocking him slowly. "You wanna tell me what that was about?" He kissed the top of Sam's head.  
Sam pulled his legs up and pressed them against his chest tightly as he curled up into Dean's side. He exhaled shakily before he answered. "Tried to remember it. I know. I know I should know."  
Dean sighed. "What did you try to remember?"  
The omega made a desperate sound in the back of his throat. "I don’t know... There is something... Something I know I need to remember. And I can't."  
Well, at least he had a full-blown headache now and the stomach-cramps were back too. Though, if Sam would take time to feel it better, to think about it properly, he wouldn't call it stomach-cramps. Because it didn't really hurt. It was more uncomfortable ... and shifting ... and just weird.  
Dean sighed again. "Don't push it, Sammy." He looked up at Garth, who sat mortified on the coffee table and watched the both of them with wide eyes. "You mind gettin' us Tylenol from the kitchen and a glass of water?"  
The scrawny alpha nodded and rose instantly. "Sure thing. Anything else?"  
Dean thought for a moment and shook his head then. "Nah, it's fine. - Just Tylenol and water."  
Garth came back about five minutes later. As ordered he had a pill bottle and a glass of water in his hands, which he handed Dean.  
Dean made Sam take the pills and drink the water.  
The scrawny alpha didn't sit down again. Besides, he looked a bit more uncomfortable now.  
Dean noticed.  
"Look, Garth. Why don't you call Bobby and let him know that you're here, huh?" He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes.  
Garth nodded. "Sure thing. I'll be in the kitchen then ..." he murmured and took off, leaving the them to themselves. He kind of looked relieved, so Dean figured he didn't have to feel bad to send him out.  
Sam nuzzled into the alpha's chest, soaking in the warmth radiating from him. Drawing in deep breaths of his comforting scent. Dean carved with his hand through the mop of hair soothingly and leaned back, taking Sam with him.  
"What makes you think that there's a cure for vamps?" Sure the ex-hunter was curious. What else should he be? Specially after Garth stopping by and telling him about his ridiculous theory about Sam being the shadow. Well – at least a hunter. At some point the alpha was right, given the fact that the omega had kind of vanished after his parents had died and that he had another identity.  
Maybe he had only been some kind of tipster or host for hunters.  
There were a lot of them out there actually, so it wasn't an impossible thing at all ...

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

They had lunch pretty late afternoon. Together. Sam. Dean. Garth.  
A while later, Bobby came and after that, Ellen and Sheriff Mills. Sam sat among them while they were talking about how to get the drop on the vamp without it smelling them. Without giving themselves away.  
They cleared the hallway and living room afterwards and set everything up. By seven p.m. they had everything arranged and were ready to go get the monster captured.  
Sam and Dean were waiting in the kitchen, while the others went out, armed to the teeth with machetes and arrows covered in dead man's blood. The omega watched them leave worriedly and sipped at his coffee.  
"Sammy." Dean reached across the table and took Sam's hand. "It's gonna be fine, okay?" He smiled at him warmly. "Lets get back to our house, huh?"  
Sam nodded and put the mug down on the table. "Yeah, let's go." His lips were damp with the gold-brown liquid. He was glad that they decided that he wouldn't have to go with Garth. Well, he was going to be with Garth, but not right away. Garth’d come to their house and then Dean would leave.  
It actually didn't sound a lot better, but it kinda felt like it though.  
They moved over to Dean’s house and got settled in the living room. It was quite cold back there since they had spent the last night and today at Bobby's, so Dean got the comforter and blanket from his room and brought them into the living room.  
"Here we go," he whispered as he nudged Sam's legs up on the couch and gestured him to lay down on it.  
The ex-hunter sat down at the edge of it, right beside Sam's hip and laid his hand on the omega's hip, rubbing with his thumb small circles into it. "You feelin' okay?", he asked, knowing that Sam felt uncomfortable about what was going to happen. He could feel it. He didn't want someone to be tortured and killed. Sam didn't seem to like any of this.  
But some things had to be done. They needed to get to know about all of this. There was no way around.  
"Yeah." Sam gave him a weak smile.  
"Liar," Dean said with a soft smile.  
"Why ... why can't you just ... I don't know." He sighed heavily and shook his head. “Keep her. Wait a bit longer. I'll do research. I'll find a cure if there's one. I'm sure. She doesn't have to die or something ..."  
Dean sighed too and closed his eyes for a moment. He knew that there wasn't a cure. He'd know if there were. He understood why Sam wouldn't want him to torture and kill someone. He could understand. But sometimes there were things that needed to be done. No matter how hard it was ...  
They didn't talk any more about it then.  
Sam settled in on the couch and Dean made fire in the fireplace. He made burgers then, serving one to the omega with a side of french fries. He himself didn't feel like eating at all. Sam didn't seem to either, but the alpha insisted.  
It was very calm. A bit too calm.  
Dean wished he could turn on the TV, but then he might miss something from the outside, so he wouldn't touch the remote control.  
Though, when a knock at their door was heard and both men perked up, Dean moved over to the front door and opened it.  
What he saw wasn't what he had been expecting at all.  
There was Garth. Covered in blood and an angry gash on his left cheek. His hand shaking with emotions and his lips quivering.  
"It wasn't a vampire, Dean," he murmured right before the eyes rolled back into his skull and the scrawny alpha collapsed forward ...

.... to be continued


	13. Blood Shed Life's Gone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My beta just told me that she can't proofread this story anymore. So ... after chapter 15, there'll be only unbeta'd posts.   
> I'm devasted.   
> And so sorry ...   
> So I thought about stopping this and deleting it. But then I thought it's not fair. For the sake of the plot and for those who want to know how it is going to end and all, I'll continue.   
> But there WILL BE a whole lot of mistakes :(  
> I'm sorry.

Fields Of Jasmine  
Chapter 13 ~ Blood Shed, Life's Gone

Dean caught the falling body with his arms and lowered him onto the floor slowly.  
"Garth?" he asked as he laid the alpha out on the floor and on his back. Dean instantly started to check the other one over with his hands, felt his pulse and breathing.  
The man was out cold. Wounded. But other than that he didn't seem to be in any life-threatening danger.  
"Holy shit," Sam gasped as he came around the corner and stopped dead in his tracks with wide eyes as he stared down at both men. Eventually – not knowing if it were seconds or minutes – he swallowed hard and ripped his gaze away from them and towards the front door.  
"Sam. - I want you to stay with him." The ex-hunter was already about to scoop the man up on his arms. He winced as the weight tore at his sore back and knee. Dean shifted the prone lanky form in his arms and gave Sam a pointing look. "And DON'T go outside, you got me? No matter what you think you hear, you WILL NOT leave the house, understand?"  
The omega stared at him and then gazed at the front door, which was still open.  
"DON'T even think about it, Sam - I'm serious. I'm a hunter. I know what to do. You're a civilian. There's no discussion about this."  
Sam followed them into the living room, where Dean laid the unconscious man on the couch. "He's okay. Might have a concussion and a few scratches. Nothing too bad I guess." The alpha groaned when he straightened up again and looked at Sam. "You don't leave the house, got me?" he repeated. "I'm gonna check on the others."  
Dean wouldn't look aside until he got a definite nod from Sam. "Good." He stole a kiss from the omega's lips and then went into his bedroom.  
Five minutes later the ex-hunter was dressed in his leather jacket, boots, and armed to the teeth with a machete in each hand.  
"You stay inside," Dean emphasized his words and underlined them with a stern stare.  
Sam, who sat on the coffee table looked up at him and nodded.  
"Your job is to keep an eye on Garth. I'll be back before you even know it, baby." He gave him a smile and his features softened a bit.  
Sam's features turned a bit worried. "Take care?" His voice broke. He knew it was serious. He knew that it was dangerous ... Dean going out there, hurt from the fall in the morning, crushed by a giant omega. With a furious monster out there. "Be ... just be careful, okay? Please?" He pulled his eyebrows up, big hazel-eyes looking up at him.  
"Sure thing, Sammy." He smiled reassuringly and a bit cocky.  
The omega watched Dean leave. He heard the ex-hunter shut the door and locked it dutifully. Sam looked back at Garth, watching him for a long moment before he sighed heavily.  
Sam thought for a long time, biting his lip. He could get the hunter cleaned up.... maybe get him a bit more comfortable. He could check on his injuries and tend to them. Sam could do a couple of things...

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

So, Sam had cleaned the hunter up. He had removed his shirt and – miraculously – had been able to stitch up the deeper gash on Garth's side. The stitches looked pretty nice – for the fact that it had been the first time he had done such a thing knowingly. First his hands had been shaky and trembling. Sam had no clue what he was doing. But somehow he knew. He let his instincts take over and it was as if his subconscious mind led all the way through it until the last stitch was done and the wound disinfected and patched up.  
Maybe he had been a doctor or surgeon. Or he had been a soldier or a paramedic or something...  
After that, the omega had put on one of Dean's shirts on the hunter and had covered him with a blanket.  
He had washed the dirty water from the bowl down the sink and had put the clothes and towels into the washing machine and had turned it on.  
Now he was sitting here, watching Garth as his alpha had told him – anxiously. His gaze flickered towards the front door every now and then and he listened into the silence for any signs of Dean coming back. Of the others coming back.  
But so far there were just the normal nightly noises from the outside. More silence to deal with ... He chewed his lower lip nervously.  
Just when he told himself “fuck it,” and was about to head for his boots and jacket, there were footfalls on the porch and he stopped still in his tracks towards his bedroom.  
Then the door opened and a limping, dirty Dean Winchester entered, slamming the door shut behind him. Sam's eyes widened at the sight of dark brown and scarlet on the ex-hunter's hands and jeans and his shirt.  
The omega swallowed as he blinked at him shocked.  
Dean was obviously in no good mood – the tight lines around his eyes and the firm line of lips were definitely something to go by.  
Sam straightened up after a moment and was in a few long strides right in Dean's face, his hands simply everywhere. His head, his neck, his ribs, checking him with tender touches.  
"Sammy," Dean breathed, catching his wrists mid-move to stop him. Firm but not brutally. "I'm okay."  
Their gazes locked.  
It was like Dean could see right into Sam's mind, reading what he was thinking. The sharp stench of fear coming from Sam in waves.  
"It's not mine, baby boy.", Dean pulled the omega's hands to his chest and held them there. "Not mine," he emphasized his words.  
"It's the others?" of course it worked the other way around too. Sam just knew.  
"It wasn't a vampire." Dean's voice broke. "Jo and Joshua are dead. Bobby and Jody are wounded." He blinked tears away.  
Sam's gaze flickered towards the front door and made an attempt to pull his hands back, but Dean gripped them firmer.  
"They'll be okay - It's mostly Jo's ..." He gestured at his shirt. "Ellen's patching them up right now. Said she could handle it."  
Dean smiled a bit, his voice less strained and his eyes a bit warmer than before. He let go of Sam's wrists and laid his hands on Sam's cheeks to pull him into a gentle kiss.  
"How's Garth doin'?" he asked when they parted.  
"He's still out. Cleaned him up and everything. Didn't wake once." Sam swallowed, tilting his head forward so to rest it against the alpha's forehead. "I think he's okay, though still out cold."  
Dean blew out a long breath. "I'll go grab a shower, 'kay?" He still smiled but sounded tired. The hard lines around his eyes started to fade away and morphed into creases of fatigue. "We'll talk tomorrow about the other stuff, 'kay?"  
Sam nodded. He could wait. Besides. He didn't' feel pretty good either. Those stomach-cramps would be killing him some day. What had first felt like a worm felt now as if a snake was worming its way through his intestines. A tingling and nervous feeling which let the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.  
"Okay." Sam smiled at him, while he brushed over his belly absently, trying to will his guts back to hold still. "What about..." He gestured towards the hunter on the couch.  
"You go and try to catch some sleep. I'll check on him after I've had my shower." He smiled tiredly at Sam, rubbing with his thump over his cheekbone. "You're lookin' tired, baby boy." Dean's voice was low, nearly a whisper.  
Sam leaned into the touch. "You too. I'm fine. I can stay with Garth. Waiting for him to wake up." Of course he wanted to be useful somehow. After all it wasn't like he would just stand by while the others were doing all the work.  
His alpha's face turned serious. "I want you to lie down." It wasn’t up for discussion.  
"I wanna be useful." Sam didn't know a lot about himself, but one thing was for sure: He wasn't someone who'd give up that easy. Not if he thought that he was capable of helping.  
Dean's face softened, his touch tender against Sam's cheek. "You've had a rough day. I want you to go to lie down and get comfortable."  
He then shooed the omega towards the bedroom and checked on Garth's vitals before he headed into the shower. When Dean was done and after checking on Sam, who seemed to be fast asleep, he went back into the living room and gathered his first aid kit from under the sink, towels and a bowl.  
Of course he had seen that Sam had cleaned the hunter up and had put a shirt on him. But there had to be an angry wound on his side, which needed to get stitched up.  
He sat the bowl with water and antiseptic on the table, so he did with the wash clothes and towels. He then pulled the blanket down, carefully and slow and tugged the shirt – his shirt – up, to see a couple of bruises where Garth had crashed into a tree. There was a bandage too. Dean hummed to himself and eased the bandage off to discover a neatly stitched gash.  
His eyebrows rose in surprise and wonder, and his gaze flickered towards the omega's bedroom door. Dean put the bandage back in place and scoffed.  
"Real nice," he muttered tiredly.  
He was just about to pull the blanket back up, when the smaller alpha started to stir and moan in discomfort.  
Garth's eyelids opened lazily.  
"Dean?" he slurred.  
"Easy buddy. You've got a concussion." He patted Garth's shoulder. "You go back to sleep."  
Garth obeyed instantly and his eyes fluttered shut again, a soft sigh dying on his lips.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

It was the very next day, when they all found themselves in Dean's house in the living room. Mostly to give Sam surroundings he already knew properly and where he'd have a place to back off if he needed to.  
Despite the fact that Sam knew those people, he felt uncomfortable in crowded rooms.  
Garth, Bobby and Jody sat on the couch. Sam in the recliner. Ellen had found a place on the coffee-table and Dean was sitting on the arm of the recliner his omega was sitting in.  
Ellen's eyes were rimmed red and tracks of tears were littering her face. Neither in the room seemed too happy about the outfall of the past night. No wonder. They were grieving over the loss of dear friends. Epecially Ellen over her daughter. Jo.  
"So ... a demon," Dean said darkly. His voice low and strained.  
Everyone looked over at him. Sam didn't. He kept on staring into his lap where his fingers were nestling with the seam of his hoodie. They had been talking about last night before – as some kind of warm-up for Sam – the omega supposed. Dean had asked him some questions that were rather uncomfortable and Sam nearly had told him about the thing with Henry's pet. But only nearly.  
While Dean was filling him in on things he hadn't known yet, but were somehow important, Sam started to think. Hard.  
The thing with those victims – that some of them had been pregnant. That they all ... well ... had been ripped open, as if something had dug out their livers and ... well intestines. OR, something had eaten its way out of their bellies ... Sam had to reach for his stomach, his big hand palming it through the fabric of his shirt.  
It hadn’t been a lot of Bobby and Dean had told him. But it was enough to make him feel nauseous. And as the THING moved inside his stomach, making itself known, he thought he might be sick. Besides ... it kind of felt like it was growing – now that he had an assumption about what his cramps truly were ... it was definitely growing.  
Sam hadn't talked since back then. He had been weirdly calm.  
Dean had assumed, that it was because it hit Sam hard, that some those women had been pregnant ... What hadn't been that wrong after all. Even when it hadn't been human babies and even when it weren't “natural” pregnancies.  
"What do demons have to do with this?" Jody spoke up, sounding confused. "Thought we were talking about vampires in this case?"  
"Well, she kinda was a vampire." Bobby answered gruffly, "A possessed one." he huffed out with a not humorous breath. "WHY? HOW?"  
That was the question they all were asking themselves. Why and how would a demon possess a monster? Weren't they all into human meat-suits? Has it ever truly been monsters, or rather demons? Was it even possible to possess a monster?  
"Whatever they're planning, Sam was part of it. They're going to need someone else to ... finish this. Whatever they were doing. If they don't get Sam back." Dean looked pensive. "The demon's gonna tell whoever it's working for – that we know ... so ... Either they're gonna try to get a drop on us, or they'll look for someone else but Sam to finish it." He looked up, meeting everyone's gaze, except Sam's who still seemed very interested in the zipper of his hoodie.  
The omega's hands were trembling.  
"Sammy?" Dean looked down at him, his hand heavy on Sam's shoulder. Dean was waiting for the taller man to spill.  
He sighed and looked back into the round. "We were talking abut his visions and ... I've filled him in on the rest. Sam said that maybe ... they were all pregnant and ... that they didn't get ripped apart from whoever monster had them, but that – whatever they were pregnant with – had eaten its way outside." He cleared his throat gingerly. Shuddering at the very thought. "I think they weren't pregnant with human babies. So ..."  
"What the hell do you wanna say with that?" Jody's face was contorted in disgust. "That they had ... that they've gotten ... and that – that those babies – weren't human? That they survived ... or ... How do you even call this?"  
Bobby's eyes didn't leave Sam throughout the conversation. "Some kind of parasite growing in its host. Eating its way out of the body," he murmured, though loud enough for everyone to hear. "That's gonna give us something else to look into ..." He still eyed Sam skeptically, his eyes narrowed, his eyebrows pulled together in a tight line. The grizzled hunter watched Sam pale. He watched him brush absently over his belly. The way he nestled his hoodie ... It was giving everything away. Everything. Bobby's eyes widened for the slightest of moments, his face getting out of control.  
"Have heard of some creatures that do that kinda shit ... but none which are controlled by demons," Bobby continued calmly.  
Sam's head snapped up and he stared straight into the man's blue-green eyes, pure horror written all over his face. That moment Sam knew that Bobby knew. He didn't know how, but he knew. And as if through a chain reaction, Dean's hand on Sam's shoulder tightened slightly, sensing that something was about to change. That the omega was about to jump up and bolt ...  
Even though he sensed it before it could even happen, Dean hadn't any time to react, as he was taken aback from the omega's sudden movement. Sam shot to his feet and was on his way towards the alpha's bathroom the very next moment, locking himself in.  
The alpha looked into the round. Everyone seemed helpless for long minutes, except Bobby. The old guy looked as if he knew exactly what was going on ... once again. With that smug though sad expression on his face.  
The obvious noise of retching was heard.  
Then a pause.  
And more retching.  
Dean stood in front of the bathroom door now, one hand on the knob, one flat against the door. "Sam. Open up. Please," he said, when there wasn't heard anything for quite a while from the inside. ... let me help.  
Outside, he could hear Bobby and the others keep on talking about what and why a demon would benefit from something like that. Specially of that kind of shit anyway. After all those bastards loved to see their victims suffer. Though – this wasn't about the suffering. This had to mean something else. Specially since they knew about Sam's dreams and visions.  
Venire tredecim diabolus.  
"Don't make me bust the damn door, Sam," he said louder and even more concerned since there was no noise of movement from the inside. He understood why Sam had been off lately. Who wouldn't be bothered – after telling doctors to puncture his brain and making him lose his memory – to get abducted by demon-vamps and to learn that there were others before. Others who were dead. Ripped open from the inside. Choking on their own blood while feeling agonizing pain as some monster was clawing its way out of their insides.  
Sam had all rights to be upset and distressed about what was going on.  
Dean waited another moment before he spoke again. "Okay ... I'm counting to three." He listened. "One ..." He made a very long pause, holding his breath. "Two ..." He made a step back from the door, his eyes narrowing. The alpha was deadly serious about taking the door down. Tense shoulders and taut muscles brushing against the fabric of his shirt as he made another step backwards.  
"It's not locked," came a weak and shuddering voice from the inside, followed by a choked sob.  
Dean blinked. Yeah, well, he could've tried to use the door-knob and not just holding it ...  
The alpha hesitated then. Sam didn't sound as if he was in pain or something. Sure he sensed hurt and ... terrifying fear radiating from the bathroom, but he thought it wasn't because of something physical.  
He took a deep breath, before he turned the knob to the left and pulled the door open, lurking through the gap.  
Sam sat – huddled up – beside the toilet, on the floor, whipping his wet cheeks with the sleeve of his hoodie before he looked up. His eyes were red and swollen and glossy and it smelled like vomit and fear and distress. But most of all fear with a side of shame.  
The alpha looked down at the younger man. Seeing so much pain. Feeling so much despair. He closed the door behind him and moved over towards Sam, where he sat down on the cool tiles beside him. Without any further questions or giving him a chance to back away from him, Dean wrapped him up into a tight embrace and tugged him close.  
Sam couldn't hold back anymore and burst out into tears and sobs and hiccups, murmuring incoherent syllables.  
Dean shushed him, rubbing over his back and stroking his head gently. "It's gonna be fine, Sam.", he whispered, though he didn't exactly know what was going to be fine. "We'll get through this. I promise. We'll find out what's goin' on."  
Sam buried his face in Dean's shirt, his long arms wrapped around the alpha's rib-cage in a tight lock, holding onto for dear life.  
He had to tell him. Not just because if he wouldn't he probably was going to die like the others. Also because Dean deserved to know what lived with him under one roof. Not just the omega, but also the thing which was growing inside of him.  
Sooner or later it'd show and he couldn't hide it anymore. Sooner or later it'd rip through his guts and might become a threat to his alpha and Bobby Singer and whoever else would be close to him when it'd happen.  
"No ..." Sam sobbed. "It won't. It won't, Dean. It's in me." Sam pressed his face into Dean's shoulder – so hard, the alpha wondered how Sam could still breathe. "I can feel it. It's moving."  
Dean Winchester froze and his face went blank and a second later lines of pure horror formed on it as he paled. Hell, he couldn't even remember how to breathe.  
Did Sam just tell him that it was inside of him? That – whatever this parasite was – it had the omega as a host? The realization about what this meant washed Dean Winchester's mind blank and shut it down for some rather uncomfortable minutes.  
Sam cried.  
And Dean held him. Too shocked to say something. To do something. He just sat there, and held onto Sam, who was holding onto him, trying not to freak out right there and then. Trying not to give Sam the wrong picture, by jumping up and yelling or whatever the hell he would be doing if he was capable of moving right now.  
Dean buried his nose into Sam's hair and closed his eyes as he soothed the omega with soft whispers.  
Tremors wrecked Sam's body.  
The alpha carved through his hair, twirling one of the dark brown locks around his pointing-finger. Sam's body was fitting against his perfectly. As if they were made to be together. The way his long arms fitted around him, how the curve of Sam's jaw and cheek engulfed into the crook of the alpha's neck.  
Neither of them had a clue for how long they sat there on the cold tiles. Neither of them cared either.  
Just when Sam had calmed down enough and his hiccups died away, Dean shifted a bit to get some weight off of his aching leg.  
“You know we've to tell the others, right?” Eventually the ex-hunter spoke up calmly. “So we can figure something out … think about getting you somewhere where they're able to help you.”  
Sam didn't move a bit.  
As soon as Dean's mind was capable of his usual functions, it started to play through scenarios about how this could go south and how to get the thing out of Sam in the fastest of ways. Though, he had to admit, that he had no idea how. If it was a supernatural being – a parasite of any kind – it wouldn't let itself be carved out its host's body that easily.  
“We've to tell at least Bobby.” Dean thought out loud, “And Jim. They should know a doctor or someone who'll be able to do that kind of thing.”  
Sam shuddered and squeezed his eyes shut. At least the alpha didn't smell angry. If he seemed to be something it was worried.  
“I don't want them to know.” Sam's voice was small and faint.  
“They have to.” Dean soothed over Sam's hair and cupped the back of his head to hold him close in case he would attempt to pull away.  
There was silence again. The others voices were heard faintly through the closed door.  
“Dean,” Sam whimpered desperately. “I don't wanna. Please … please don't make me - I brought it here. I … I brought it here ...” A hurtful sob wrenched from the omega's throat.  
His mind was working in full-blown panic-mode, adrenaline pumping through his veins and turning his pheromones salty.  
Sam wasn't afraid of getting hurt, or kicked out. Neither did he care if they'd kill him or whatever hunters did with freaks like him. What actually bothered him was the way they would be looking at him. Angry. Disgusted. Disappointed. The others wouldn't tolerate him anymore and they'd expel him from their fellowship.  
The way Bobby and Jim would act when they'd learn that he was carrying a monster inside of him. KNOWING that he was carrying something inside of him and not telling them. That he had lied to them and … that they'd know.  
That he hadn't told them in the first place what really had happened with Henry's pet. That he had gotten forced to …  
No, he wouldn't go there again. He couldn't.  
And then there was Dean. What'd Dean Winchester think if he'd know what really happened? That this thing had SEX with him. That he had been someone else's bitch.  
A monster's bitch.  
THAT was what hurt most. Deep down in his heart the thought of being left alone because of what he was ached worst.  
“Sammy.” Dean breathed into his hair. “No one's gonna hate you.” He stroke over the omega's head once more. “I understand.” Actually he wasn't the one to have these kind of moments with another person. Usually he kept to himself about feelings and emotions. It had never done any good to him or the other one to share profound information about how everyone was doing. Specially because he knew why. Mostly he could sense why people were acting like they were acting.  
“I understand why you think that this's bad. But I want you to understand that no one of those people out there is going to blame you for anything - Neither do I.” He paused. “We'll figure something out.”  
Sam's arms were trapped in between himself and Dean's chest now. His head held firmly against the man's neck. And though, even when this was supposed to make the omega feel save (what was also supposed to calm him down – at least those people on the documentary about abused omegas had said so), but it obviously didn't.  
Sam was pushing against his chest, trying to get some distance between the both of them.  
But Dean wouldn't let him.  
Sam wasn't someone to give into another person's ministration that easily, so he used more of his strength. He didn't want Dean to understand and to accept this. The alpha wasn't SUPPOSED to hug him and try to calm him down when he was such a giant screw-up.  
Sam didn't deserve to feel safe and loved and accepted. He didn't. Sam couldn't understand why the alpha still seemed to want him around, or to even bother and try to care about him.  
Even when they were mates.   
Sam didn't remember a lot about this world, but he sure as hell couldn't possibly imagine that such a bond wasn't able to be broken somehow.  
“Don't even think about it,” Dean murmured, as he decided that he needed his second arm to hold the omega close to him. “You're not going anywhere, Sammy. You're stayin' right the fuck here. No one of us is gonna let you go down that fucking road all by yourself.” He wasn't sure if Sam understood, if he wanted to understand, but he needed to tell him all that. “You're a part of our clan now. You're part of MY family, Sam.”  
Still, the omega tried to wiggle out from under those arms, but the ex-hunter was strong and seasoned in holding down struggling sneaky things. Sam on the other hand was in this weakened state and so not up for any kind of fight.  
“I won't give you up. No one will,” Dean whispered determined. “We belong together.” … you're mine and no one else's. I won't let you go, nor I'd give you away because of some evil spawn growing inside of you.  
“We don't,” Sam sobbed. “How can you say these things? You don't even know me. You don't.”  
“I don't know you in every way. That's true. But I know you in a way which's way more important, Sammy.” Dean spoke softly to him. He knew that getting loud and yelling at him for feeling as he felt right now, wouldn't make anything better – even when he wanted to. “I can FEEL you. I feel how miserable you are, how desperate. I can feel that you're afraid of getting pushed away and I can feel that those thoughts are hurting you.”  
He swallowed thickly. “I don't want you to be hurting, sweetheart. I wish you'd trust me enough to believe what I'm saying, and that we're going to do everything to make you better.” He exhaled audibly.  
Sam had stilled in his arms and was pressed tightly against him, still weeping, but obviously a bit calmer.  
He believed Dean. He believed that the alpha thought he could save him somehow, that there was a cure or whatever. Samuel Harvelle trusted him.  
But he didn't trust himself and he definitely didn't trust the beast growing inside of him.

… to be continued


	14. One Of A Kind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In lovely memory of my beloved beta GOTHPANDAOTAKU.   
> She asked for a time out, which I will give her. No one should feel liable to do something he/she doesn't want to.   
> What do you say to things you love?   
> Let it go, and it may come back.   
> I hope she will too … 
> 
> Anyway: The chapters which will follow after Chapter 15 will not be beta'd and therefore crappy shit. I'm so sorry.   
> I'm heartbroken.   
> And devasted.   
> And ashamed.   
> I hope some of you will continue to read this story though, since I don't feel like waiting to post the rest of it.   
> It could be months.   
> And I can't do that to you guys. 
> 
> Someone from ff.net "2cool4noSCHOOL" is currently proofreading ch 16 & 17 and high likely 18.

Fields Of Jasmine  
Chapter 14 ~ One Of A Kind

Sam had clung to the Alpha since that day.  
It had only been three days since the omega had told Dean that he thought that he was pregnant with some monster's spawn. That afternoon, Dean had put Sam down with a small blue pill to help him sleep. After he slept, he might feel a bit easier on the heart. At least the alpha hoped so.  
Sam had been upset and more than just distressed. He'd been out of it – literally. The omega wouldn't stop crying and shivering and the mixed scent of fear and sheer terror was tearing at Dean's heart and nerves mercilessly. Sam had been hurting so bad, it made his alpha's nerves burn with desperation and sorrow.  
Even when he had cried himself into exhaustion, leaving behind nothing more but a heap of agony, his mind hadn't been able to give into it and allow him to drift off to sleep.  
Of course, Dean hadn't made him take the sleeping pills. Neither had he told Sam what kind of pills they had been though.  
Either the omega trusted him, or he hadn't been right in his mind when Dean had handed him the coke and the pills.  
Either way. Sam needed rest. And Dean needed time to figure things out for himself. He needed to know that Sam was okay – as okay as it was possible anyway. He needed to tell the others and do some research on that kind of thing. Dean Winchester felt the need to solve this issue fast. They haven't time to waste.  
Sam's life depended on it.  
Which also meant that Dean's life depended on it.  
So he had carried his omega into the bedroom and laid Sam on the bed as soon as the pills started to kick in. He had covered him in blankets and had sat by his side until the omega's subconscious lost the fight against the medication.  
Dean had soothed him tenderly. He had stroke his head and soft hair and had shown him that he was there with him. For him.  
Only when Sam had been out for the count, he left his side to rejoin the others, who were in the middle of discussing the case.  
Dean took a deep breath before he left his bedroom, all eyes on him the very moment he entered the living room.  
“We've a problem,” Dean murmured and slumped down in the recliner Sam had occupied before. He rubbed both hands over his face and drew them through his hair in an attempt to clear his mind from Sam's fading emotions. “Whatever parasite it is … Sam's … He's got it too.” The alpha's voice broke.  
Everyone's eyes widened in horror, except for Bobby's.  
“We have to call Jim.” He met Bobby's gaze over the distance. “He's gonna help us get it out of Sam.”  
Bobby shook his head.  
The others stayed silent and listened.  
“Not that easy, son,” the old man said calmly. “It's not like you can just cut it out of him - It's a parasite. IF it's a parasite. Ain't like we can bring him into a hospital either… We'd need to find a place with equipment and someone who's familiar with playin' doctor.”  
“We're gonna set everything up over here.” Dean's mind was working on over-drive. “It's the safest we can do, since the demon's still out there.”  
“We gotta know what it is that's … nesting in him. I doubt that it's like a normal pregnancy. And he ain't even showing yet ….”  
Dean nodded to himself. His old friend was right. They had to be prepared. Had to figure out possible complications before they'd do this. Besides … neither of them had any idea how to do a surgery, neither about how to assist Pastor Jim properly.  
“We'll need proper equipment,” Jody chimed in. “I don't think that a first aid kit and antiseptic fluid will do.”  
“I know someone who can get us all the things needed. I only need a list with supplies and to make a call,” Garth continued. The poor guy was a bit pale around his nose. His voice raw.  
“Bobby. You're gonna talk to Jim. He should give you a list with the equipment needed for a surgery like this.” Dean rose from the recliner, his hands shaking. “Garth.” He addressed him with his hardened gaze. “You'll call your contact as soon as Bobby's got the list.” He cleared his throat. “Ellen - Thank you for helping us,” he spoke softly.  
The woman took it as what it was meant to be. A goodbye. A thank you, but you should go home and grieve over your loss as long as you need to.  
She cocked an eyebrow. “You really think I'm gonna go back to the roadhouse after that bitch killed my daughter? I'm not gonna leave until we know what's going on and until it’s payed for murdering her.” The last words were hissed through gritted teeth. “I'm staying. And I will help.”  
Dean hadn't thought any less of Ellen. He was glad she'd stay. They'd need every hand possible.  
“Besides, I've Ash at the roadhouse. First we'll save your boy and then we'll hunt that bitch down.” There was a dangerous smirk playing on her lips.  
Dean gave her a thankful nod.  
“Jody. Thanks … for helping us out.” He said with a soft smile.  
“Ain't like I won't be around if you guys need me,” she said, well knowing that Dean was right about her not being part of this. She had a job she couldn't quit that easily for hunting down some supernatural being. After all she had to find a proper explanation for the debuty’s deaths … She knew that Bobby and Dean knew her number in case they would need backup or anything else that included her.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Jim told Bobby that he was on his way to meet up with them and develop a plan.  
Garth had made his phone call and let the others know that his contact would need about a week to get all the things together that were on the list.  
Now that they knew that it was monsters AND demons involved in the killings, Bobby and Ellen had new leads to follow and new old books to read through.  
Dean was scanning the web, looking for some acceptable (useable) information, while having a watchful eye on his omega.  
Now that they knew in which direction they had to look, they had usable results within a couple of hours. Even Jim managed to arrive at the Salvage five hours after Bobby's call when the sun was already setting.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Dean was scribbling onto a note pad, absorbed in the task at hand to find the thing Sam was carrying inside, when he heard a soft sound from the omega's bedroom.  
It took his focused mind a couple of moments to notice though. The alpha looked up and glanced over his shoulder towards the bedroom door, an eyebrow risen.  
Again, there was this soft sound, half sigh half moan. To him it sounded everything else but relaxed and it definitely came from Sam.  
He laid the pen aside and rose slowly from the chair, holding it with a hand and setting it a few inches backwards so it wouldn't scratch over the wooden floor.  
Dean didn't want to wake the omega when it wasn't necessary.  
He let go and tiptoed into Sam's bedroom to the end of the bed, where he stopped in his tracks and watched the omega.  
It was just a few minutes that Sam seemed to be sound asleep, before another pitiful noise fell from tender rose lips and he shifted as if he was uncomfortable.  
Dean's lips creased and he swallowed a groan. It seemed it was too much to ask for a break or for Sam being able to sleep properly after all he'd been through. The alpha thought for a very long moment, before he decided that he wouldn't be able to listen to Sam and take notes at the same time.  
It was a thing an alpha couldn't possibly do with an omega – HIS omega, his mate – next door, hurting or even being uncomfortable. So he walked around the bed towards the right side of it and toed off his boots. He then slipped under the covers right beside Sam and closed the distance between them.  
Dean wasn't someone who'd admit that he was into cuddling. Of course not. But with Sam? Well, with him it was different. So very different. Besides … who could possibly judge an alpha for wanting to make his mate feel loved and safe and just being there when he needed him?  
Dean eased one of his arms under Sam's neck and laid one over his middle. Then he closed the remaining distance between their bodies, until Sam's side was flush against his chest. As if on instinct, his mate wiggled around and turned over, so that he was facing Dean and nestled into his chest and body as if it was the most natural thing to do.  
Dean couldn't help but smile, when a long arm snucked around his waist and a nose dug into his chest. Sam was mumbling something incoherent and shifted, but soon he grew calm again and settled down in the loving embrace of the alpha.  
“That's it, Sammy,” Dean whispered as he let his flat palm travel up and down the omega's back. “You sleep. Try to relax ...” He sighed heavily. “We're gonna fix this. And when it's all over you'll see - You'll learn to go out and talk to other people. You'll go to school or get a job. One day you'll be free, baby boy.”  
Even though the ex-hunter didn't know what was to come, he so wished he'd be able to keep his word.  
“I promise, baby … you'll be safe. We'll get the thing out of you and we'll hunt that bitch down.” He had to sigh again.  
Dean laid his head back on the pillow and held Sam a bit tighter as his eyes drifted close.  
“Sammy.” Dean sighed against Sam's forehead and drew in a long shuddering breath heavy with the omega's scent. The sweet odor of jasmine dominating the wood and moss right now, telling Dean that Sam was good for the moment.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

When he woke it was against another body. It was warm and soft and comfortable, and there was a hand resting in between his shoulder-blades and warm puffs of air against his forehead. There was the strong scent of alpha surrounding him. Wood and musk and the typical scent of oil and metal which told him that it was Dean.  
Sam yawned and sighed, nuzzling into the soft fabric of the alpha's shirt. He shifted again and stretched his legs so that he could get even closer to the other man's body. The fingers in between his shoulder-blades twitched. Dean shifted.  
“Hey, Sammy,” he heard a hoarse voice say.  
Sam groaned and buried his face in Dean's chest. He wasn't ready to face the cruel reality out there just yet. Besides, he still felt exhausted … and though he had slept, he felt tired and so not in the mood to get up or do anything else right at the moment but lying here.  
He was afraid, that as soon as his body would kick into gear and start up its usual circuit, his brain would too. And that meant that he'd start to think about things he didn't want to think about.  
“You better?” Dean asked, obviously not wanting to let Sam keep his sleep-dazed mind.  
Sam made another sound instead of answering with words and sniffed. It was so warm and comfortable and out there it was cold and hard and just reality.  
The omega's stomach grumbled and he felt the slight pull of hunger deep down in his belly. There was no way he'd be able to fall asleep again like that. He just knew it.  
“Sammy,” Dean whispered and brushed with his lips over Sam's forehead. “You hungry?”  
The omega shuddered and whined. Yeah he was, but he still wouldn't want to get up.  
Dean shifted again until his arm from under Sam's neck was free and he cupped the younger man's face in his hands, making him look up at him.  
Sam's eyes blinked open lazily, revealing circles of brown, green and blue and sparks of something golden.  
Dean smiled down at him and kissed the younger man's forehead. Then his brows. His temple. His nose. The Winchester sealed his lips over Sam's then and pulled him into a tender kiss.  
Sam made a surprised sound, half whimper-half moan.  
“You're hungry,” Dean whispered against the omega's lips. “I'll go and get you something.”  
Sam held onto Dean's shirt. “No,” he muttered. “Don' go.”  
“I'll be back in no time. Scrambled eggs and toast's pretty fast.” With that he pulled away and sat up with a groan, as the muscles in his hip, knee and calf protested. “Besides … I'm starvin' too.” He smiled back over his shoulder at Sam.  
The omega made another sound and buried his face back into the pillow where Dean had been before and sucked in a shuddering breath as he felt IT shift. Sam's hands found his belly and he squeezed his eyes shut at the realization that there was already a slight bulge forming.  
He needed to tell Dean Winchester the rest of the story. They didn't know what they were looking for. They didn't know the beast's name that had done this to him. He needed to tell them. This way or another they'd figure out what had happened. How it was even possible to happen.  
Thing was: He remembered every detail about it. When Henry came into his room, the lion-like creature walking before him. A giant beast. Easily reaching Henry's shoulders with its head. Black eyes glinting in the dim light. Black silken fur and the sound of sharp claws scratching over wood. Sharp long teeth of a canine seaming its gums when it growled at Sam.  
Oh god. The fear he had felt. The terror about what this THING would do to him. First he had thought Henry had brought it in to let it feed … but then? No, he had never imagined what had happened next.  
That THING mounted him …  
The omega shuddered at the memory. His long fingers curled over his shoulder, where the scars of a claw-mark were hidden under two layers of fabric. He couldn't imagine that this very thing was growing inside him right now. That he was a nothing but a breeder … that he was going to die as soon as the fetus was strong enough to survive on its own.  
He wondered how it was even possible that something he was supposed to give life to, would eat its way out of him …  
Sam drew in a shuddering breath. This wasn't possible. Couldn't be. That thing was evil … Right? Maybe this one would be different from the others … maybe this one wouldn't hurt him. Then again … parasites didn't care what they were doing to their hosts, did they?  
Practically, it wasn't his baby. It was a being which fed from other beings to survive … Was it?  
How sure could he be, that it was going to hurt him?  
Sam's hand fluttered over his stomach and rested beneath the navel. “Are you goin' to hurt me?” he whispered, not really demanding an answer, since he knew that there wouldn't come one. He knew the answer anyway. “You are, aren't you? You're gonna eat your way out ...”  
“Sammy?” Dean's voice startled him out of his thoughts. “You talkin' to yourself?”  
The omega's head snapped up and he gazed at Dean, who stood in the doorway, with a tray. He gave him a weak smile. But it only lasted a second, before his face fell.  
He needed to tell at least Dean.  
“You wanna eat in the kitchen?” Dean seemed a bit unsure as he chewed his lip.  
Sam shook his head. Nope. He didn't feel like getting up at all.  
“Fine.” So the ex-hunter made his way back to the bed and balanced the tray with his hands while he sat back down on the bed and leaned against the headboard before he sat the tray on his lap.  
Sam followed his example.  
There was a big plate with a heap of scrambled eggs – surely ten or even more. Two big mugs with Coffee. One black. One golden brown. Six slices of buttered toast and two glasses with reddish liquid.  
Sam eyed it curiously.  
“Found some Raspberry Syrup,” Dean said and handed his mate one of the spoons.  
Sam started to eat when the alpha had his first spoon full of eggs. He took his time. Chewing slowly and sipping coffee every now and then.  
When Dean noticed what the omega was doing, he slowed down too. There was no way he'd let Sam get away with it. He'd eat at least half of the serving.  
The omega did. He also emptied the sweet juice and even sweeter coffee.  
Sam snuggled up against Dean's side when the tray was gone and sighed deeply. Now or never. He had to tell him.  
“Henry called it a name .. once.” Sam had his eyes closed. Hell, he didn't need to see Dean's face when he was doing this. When he was about to tell him. Hell, he should have told him its name earlier anyway. What difference did it make anyway? They'd know …  
He felt Dean's body tense.  
“Orthos,” he whispered barely audible.  
Then there was a beat of complete silence.  
Dean was holding his breath and released it after what seemed like an eternity. “Why didn't you tell us?” There was a hint of annoyance – and anger – in the man's voice.  
The omega pulled away, bringing some distance between him and the alpha, and ducked his head. There were no arms holding him. No reassuring touch. Dean didn't try to comfort him in any way.  
Maybe this was the breaking point in their fragile bond. Maybe him not telling Dean would ruin whatever it was they had …  
“Sam?” The ex-hunter's voice was strained, commanding. Demanding an answer.  
“I … Because if had I told you, you would’ve known.” He swallowed thickly.  
“Known what? Sam?” he snapped. Nope, Dean Winchester wasn't going to snuggle him. He was pissed. And he'd let the omega feel it.  
“What happened,” Sam's voice was thin now. He felt his heart pick up, his skin crawl with the uneasy feeling only a failure could cause.  
“You already said that.”  
Sam felt the mattress beside him tip and when he stole a glance beside him, he saw Dean standing up.  
“You … you know that things like that are important information to us? You know that this isn't a game, right?” His words were sharp and angry.  
So sharp they stung deep inside Sam's chest. Even worse than the sound of his alpha's words was the bubbling anger which radiated from him in thick waves, making Sam's chest tight.  
Sam nodded.  
“Anything else we need to know? Something that's gonna help us save number thirteen from getting' kidnapped?” Dean snapped, pacing the room in fast strides without looking at the omega. “Any reason you wouldn't tell us? Wouldn't tell ME?”  
Sam bit his lower lip before he spoke. “The baby … It's … it's … at least if it is a baby ...” He had no clue how to say it. How to tell the alpha. He felt tears prickle in his eyes. “It's Orthos's. It's … it's not human. It's not a vampire … It's Orthos's.” Sam sighed as his voice broke.  
He heard Dean gasp. He heard him stop in his tracks. A sharp intake of air cut through the sudden silence.  
“I was getting sick. I had a fever and I felt real bad.” Sam paused. “Henry noticed and said he'd have something that'd help me.” The omega paused again, pushing a sob back down. “Then he'd let his friends in. They'd bind me to the bed face down. Henry'd come back with his pet … and … He'd let it have me,” the last few words were barely a whisper, as he reached for his shoulder where marks were hidden by fabric. “Every time when I felt like getting sick - Until I didn't anymore,” Sam added softly. “It's Orthos's spawn that's growing in me. So I don't think it will look human or so … I … I just … I don't know what I was thinking. I didn't want everyone to know what had happened. I just wanted to forget. And then … then you and Bobby came and picked me up. And somehow it was too late to tell ...” He sighed again, biting back a hiccup. “And when I read the file about the others … I don't know … I think I just knew ...”  
Sam looked up, locking his gaze with Dean's. Wide green eyes and a face drained of all color looked at him. “I'm sorry. I know I should've told you. But I couldn't.”  
Dean only stood there, staring at him. Sam wasn't sure if the alpha was even breathing right now. Hell, he didn't even know what to make out of this situation.  
“I'm sorry, Dean,” Sam sobbed. “You have to believe me. I'm sorry. I didn't want to lie. I didn't want to … to cause so many problems.”  
Oh god. He was crying again. Like the pathetic, hokey omega he was. He was causing so many problems. He had caused two deaths. Maybe if he had told Dean beforehand what had happened, they had figured it out. Maybe they had known that the girl wasn't a monster. They had known that she was a demon. Maybe if he had told the alpha, all of this hadn't happened.  
“I should go,” Sam breathed. “I should go,” he repeated as he blinked tears away, his mind jumping into autopilot. “I'm … I'm only causing problems for all of you.”  
The omega sniffed and wiped tears out of his face as he shoved his long legs out of bed. They made contact with the cold wooden floor. Which reminded him, that he didn't own anything. No shoes, no clothes … It was all Dean's and none of it was his.  
He owed the man his life, and he had nothing to pay him with. NOTHING.  
It was cold outside so … he'd need at least his boots. Sam rose from the bed, his back turned towards Dean, who still stood frozen right where he had stopped in his tracks.  
“I won't come back,” Sam murmured, his mind only repeating the one and only sentence over and over again. I should leave. “I promise. I won't. I'm … I'm only going to take the boots,” he mumbled absently, as he shuffled towards the bedroom door. He half expected Dean to stop him, but the ex-hunter didn't. There was no hand on his shoulder or wrist. No words. No nothing.  
So Sam wouldn't stop either. It was the best thing to do anyway.  
It was his fault that those deputies were dead. His fault that Ellen's daughter was dead. It was his fault that three of Dean's friends had gotten hurt and his fault that the girl had even been there.  
Dean stared at the empty bed. At the very spot where Sam had been sitting and telling him, that he would leave. The same spot they had been sitting side by side, the world half-way okay, until Sam had told him.  
Pictures of the night, when little Dean watched flames lick high into the night’s sky flashed by in front of his mind’s eye. He saw Cooper and the judge. He saw the grin on the omega’s face, when they declared him not responsible for what he had done, since he seemed to be crazy.  
The alpha couldn't possibly move. This wasn't what he had expected Sam would tell him. Then again … he wasn't sure what he had thought that Sam would tell him.  
What had he been expecting? Some sweet love-story about him and Henry or some other monster-chick or guy? Had he truly thought, that this thing – growing inside the omega – had been at least partly human?  
What the hell had he been expecting to hear?  
Sam struggled with the laces of his boots as he was unable to see through the haze of tears in his eyes and the shaking of his hands.  
He wouldn't take anything but the boots. He wouldn't need anything else. Only them and maybe – only maybe – he'd be lucky enough to find shelter somewhere … Somewhere where he'd be on his own. Where he wouldn't get anyone else in danger in case the thing would survive what he was about to do.

…. to be continued


	15. There's An Endless Road To Rediscover

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to "gothpandaotaku" for betaing this one :-) I'll miss you, honey.

Fields Of Jasmine  
Chapter 15 ~ There's An Endless Road To Rediscover

Whose place was it to judge someone who had acted out of despair?  
Whose task was it to decide who earned forgiveness and who not?  
Whose life was it standing at the edge of the cliff?  
It was Sam's.  
Sam had been desperate. He was the one deciding for the both of them, that he didn't deserve forgiveness. It was the omega who would be damned to die, because no one out there would know him well enough to care, if he'd leave.  
It had taken an agonizing long amount of time for Dean Winchester to get his shit together and make his legs move.  
Well, at least as long, until he heard the front door creak when it opened. The sound. The knowledge of Sam leaving, forced his body to unfreeze and allowed his mind to come out of its catatonic state.  
It didn't take him more than a couple of long strides to get right in front of Sam on the porch and hinder him leaving the house.  
It wasn't Sam's fault.  
It wasn't.  
And it would never be.  
SAM was the victim here, not Dean. Not Bobby. SAM. Sam had been the one raped and knocked up by some creature after losing his memory due to an iffy surgery. Okay, Sam might have let them do it willingly. He might even have wanted it. But this Samuel T. Harvelle right here? HE had no clue.  
He had been reborn one and a half years ago. He had been kidnapped by some shit-crazy demon-possessed monsters. The omega couldn't know, could he? He was innocent.  
He wasn't Cooper.  
“Wait.” Dean gripped him by the shoulders and blocked his way, when Sam tried to bypass him. “You … you can't leave, Sammy.”  
Sure the ex-hunter was still angry. But not at Sam. Not because he hadn't told them. The omega hadn't known better. How could he? How'd he react if he was in Sam's place?  
Not able to trust anyone but himself? Fear, that if anyone knew, that he'd be killed or worse?  
Sam tried to twist out of Dean's grasp, but the ex-hunter held on tight. “I'm sorry, Sam,” he said calmly, though a hint of urge in his voice. “I'm sorry I yelled at you. I didn't mean it.”  
Dean tried to catch the Omega's gaze, but he wouldn't look back at him.  
“You didn't have another choice.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I wouldn't have told someone like me either. Okay? It's not your fault this happened - This whole situation ain't your fault.” Dean's hands found the omega's face and he framed it. “Look at me.” He forced Sam to look. To really look him in the eyes. “I mean it. It's not your fault. We will figure this out. The whole thing.” He underlined his words with a demanding stare. “From now on no more secrets, okay?”  
Sam just stared at him, another tear rolling down his face. He looked incredibly pale in the dim light of the setting sun. Lines of worry and emotional agony covered his face.  
“I think I'm going to be sick,” he mumbled. A moment later he turned out of the alpha's grip and threw his upper body over the banister, emptying his stomach into the bushes below.  
Dean was right beside him a split second later, laying one hand gently on his omega's back, the other one on his chest, preventing him from making a dive down the porch.  
The alpha wouldn't say a word.  
Sam dry-heaved a couple more times, before the retching subsided and left him coughing and gasping for air. He felt Dean's hands on him. One on his back and one covering his chest, supporting him.  
A tear dropped from his nose and before he even thought about asking for a handkerchief, there was a fabric-clad hand wiping over his eyes and mouth, wiping away saliva and tears.  
“C'mon, kiddo,” Dean said calmly, “Let's get you back inside.”  
The alpha sounded a bit sad, Sam thought. Though his scent … it smelled like he wasn't sad. Rather … embarrassed? Ashamed maybe?  
He let Dean gather him in his arms and hold him for a while. Sam buried his face in the ex-hunter's shoulder. He didn't back away. He felt Dean's warm breath in his neck and rough stubble brushing over the sensitive skin right behind his ear.  
“I'm not mad, Sammy,” Dean whispered, his lips so close to the omega's ear. “I can't be mad at you.” He placed a tender kiss right there. “It's not your fault - You did what you thought you had to.”  
He tightened his embrace for a millisecond before he let him go again and made a step back, though keeping one hand on the omega's shoulder.  
Sam looked at him with red eyes and sniffed. The muscles in his nose and cheek twitched as he did so.  
The alpha had to smile. Sam might look like a kicked puppy, but he sure as hell was the cutest kicked puppy he'd ever seen. Not that he had ever kicked a dog in his entire life.  
“What do you think about hot chocolate?” His hand slid down to Sam's side and came to a rest at the small of his back, guiding him back inside.  
Sam wouldn't say a word. He felt miserable. So miserable. For all of it. Everything was his fault. Hell, if the entire world would be burning down, it'd be his fault somehow. There sure was a way to proof that. The omega felt as if … As if he stood for all the bad things which were happening in this world.  
His track of thoughts stopped abruptly, when he found himself being pushed down onto a kitchen chair. Sam's gaze flickered up and he watched the ex-hunter's backside as he moved over to the fridge.  
“Why?” Sam asked softly.  
“Why what?”,Dean asked back.  
“Why'd you keep me? Why'd you deal with my crap? You and Bobby … why would you want to protect me … help me?” His voice grew softer with each spoken word.  
The alpha huffed out a breath. So why would he care? Because he freaking LOVED that guy over there at the table. Because he had never felt someone under his skin like this. Even when he was only sitting there, or watching TV, or reading a book. Each single crease on his face, each movement and every movement he wouldn't make would make the alpha all tingly. “Because I do. Because I care.” He put the mug into the microwave.  
“Because we're mates?” Sam asked. It wasn't like it was something bad for sure. But then again … how could something like that be legit? Sure, he felt the pull towards the Winchester too. He felt so many things whenever he'd look at him.  
Dean thrummed his fingers on the counter, waiting impatiently for the ping of the microwave. He chewed his cheeks and licked over his bottom lip, before he turned around to face Sam, who was now looking at the ground.  
He watched the younger man calmly, opening his mouth and closing it again. The alpha made a sound much between a growl and an annoyed groan then.  
“You know ...” He pushed away from the counter and sauntered over to Sam. When he stood right before him, he kneeled down, nudged his knees apart and squeezed himself between them. Ever so gently, he framed the omega's face with his hands and made him look up. “... Being mates – That's just a part of what we are,” he spoke gently. “Being mates doesn't mean that I have to like you. Or that I'm supposed to protect you. It only means that we – somehow – belong. And it doesn't have to mean anything. But you know what it means to me to be with you?”  
He rose both eyebrows, locking his eyes with Sam's. “It means everything. I like to be around you. I like to take care of you. You're my other half, okay? You're what I didn't even know that I've been missing.” He smiled at the shudder which coursed through Sam's frame. “You are mine, Sammy. I WANT you to be mine. Mine alone. And I know I can't force you to love me back. I know that … that if you don't like me that way, I will have to let you go some day. But not now. Not until I know that you're safe.”  
Sam felt new tears gathering in his eyes. His bottom-lip quivered with unspoken emotions. The omega choked back a sob and sniffed.  
“I promise you that I will let you go as soon as I know you safe.” Dean emphasized the words huskily.  
The very next moment, Sam was all over him. Long octopus-like arms wrapped around the ex-hunter's neck, squeezing the living shit out of him. Hot tears against his skin and neck and the strong scent of Jasmine flooding the kitchen as the sound of the microwave being done was heard.  
Dean wrapped Sam into a tight embrace and breathed out in relief.  
“I don't want you to let me go,” Sam murmured into the ex-hunter's neck. “I want to be with you … but … what if …”  
“There are no If's, Sammy,” Dean reassured him. “We'll get that thing out of you and we'll get to the bottom of all this. We'll take care of you. All of us.” He rubbed up and down the omega's back. “No matter what happens, I'll stay with you,” he whispered into the omega's skin.  
“You'll be okay.”  
Sam sobbed. He pulled back a little, searching the hunter's face with his look for a few seconds, before he – ever so tentatively – caught those pouty lips with his own. He laid all his emotions into the kiss, showing Dean without words what he couldn't say, but what he wanted the alpha to know.  
Rather surprised, Dean froze for a moment, but returned the kiss nonetheless.  
When they parted, the both of them were slightly breathless. Sam sniffed once more before he offered a small shy smile.  
“That's the Sam I like.” Dean grinned cockily at him and wiggled his eyebrow.  
Sam chuckled and blushed. “How are we ...” He wouldn't want to say it out loud, nor talk about it in general, but he needed to know.  
“... What we'll do to get rid of that thing?” Dean continued for him and the omega nodded.  
“Well. First we'll get this hot chocolate into you. THEN, you're taking a shower and I'll call Bobby and tell him about Orthos … and … you know … and then we'll kiss some more.”  
The omega chuckled again and looked aside. Sure he liked kissing with Dean. It was all soft and heated. It was sweet and … just perfect. He thought about those dreams he had about the older man and the way it felt.  
“Sounds like a plan,” Sam said.  
“Good.” When he rose, he planted a soft kiss to the omega's forehead and limped back to the microwave from which he got the mug for Sam.  
Dean made himself a strong coffee with a shot of bourbon.  
They drank in comfortable silence and moved over the couch in the living room, where Sam snuggled up against the alpha. Dean had his arm around the omega's shoulders and held him close, drawing circles into the man's shirt with his thump.  
“I like that,” Sam murmured. “Being with you like that ...”  
Dean hummed low. “Me too, kiddo,” he approved contently, letting his senses bathe in the omega's sweet scent.  
Sam shifted and let his eyes flutter closed. One of his hands was nestled in the small space between the couch, Dean and himself, while his other one rested on the Alpha's denim-clad thigh. “I'd like to …” he spoke hesitantly and chewed on his bottom-lip.  
The older man was waiting for him to continue, not breaking the silence which followed.  
“To … kiss you?”  
Dean couldn't help but grin at the shy request, and only when he felt the omega's eyes on him, he'd open his and cast his look down. “Me too,” he said huskily, as he started to shift and get into a proper position.  
Sam squirmed under the ex-hunter's affectionate gaze and was about to blush and reconsider what he had just said, when he felt a hand on his scarred cheek and himself shifted, so that Dean was right against him, urging him to lean back against the backrest of the couch.  
Dean leaned up against him and curled his free arm around Sam's shoulders, so that he was leaning against the backrest of the couch and inched closer, their lips nearly touching.  
“Good?” he asked, waiting for the omega's permission, that he wasn't crowding him in any way. Well, he was already crowding him, but he wanted Sam to feel okay with it.  
Sam nodded hastily and swallowed thickly, when the man's lips first brushed over his, sending a tingling sensation through his whole body, which definitely gathered in his lower belly and let a comfortable warmth spread into his very private parts.  
The omega laid his hands – ever so lightly – on the ex-hunter's waist, when Dean leaned in further and sunk his tongue into his mouth with less to no resistance. He felt the younger man kiss back rather insecure and a bit hesitant, but as soon as the omega tasted – really tasted – what Dean tasted like, he became bolder and way less nervous about what was happening.  
Sam's arms came around Dean's middle and palmed the lower of his back, making him come closer. Dean went with it willingly, while one hand still rested on Sam's cheek and moved his other one for more leverage and so that he wouldn't crush the younger man with his weight.  
They parted for a very short amount of time, both breathing heavily.  
“This okay?” Dean breathed against the omega's damp lips.  
“Yeah,” he whispered and maneuvered himself so that he could easily lie down and take Dean with him.  
The very next moment, they were kissing again, Dean on top of his omega, their chests flush against each other's. Sam arched up with his hips, as his hands came up in between the older man's shoulder-blades and made him give in, taking more of his weight.  
Dean moaned into the kiss, as he felt a hardness press against his own through layers of fabric. “Sammy,” he whispered, heavily panting, when he pulled back to take in the omega, searching his face intently. His fingertips fluttered over Sam's cheek, not tracing the scar. He touched it, as if it wasn't even there, not paying any attention to it.  
The omega would've turned away, not wanting the alpha to touch it, to see it, if it wasn't for Dean whispering a gentle: “You're so beautiful.” He swallowed thickly and closed his eyes for a moment, willing his urge to claim the omega down. “You have no idea, baby boy.”  
“Don't,” Sam choked out. The sudden need to get away and out from the alpha's attention was overwhelming. His hands slid from Dean's back and came in-between their bodies.  
“Don't push me away. Don't do this,” he whispered, breaking the omega's resistance. “I don't care, Sam, okay? And if you'd had two heads and a tail … I couldn't care less. I want you to be mine, no matter what.” Now he looked at the scar and traced it with his thump. “It doesn't make you look ugly. It makes you interesting.”  
The omega swallowed – hard. How could he know how he was feeling about it? About all of it? Then again – if he was true with himself – he knew, because he could feel whatever was going down in the alpha's head too.  
What made him feel ashamed all over again.  
“Sammy. Look at me.”  
The omega did.  
Dean was smiling down at him tenderly, moving his thumb over Sam's lower lip and back up to his scalp, where he brushed a strand of hair back.  
The lines on Sam's face tightened and he frowned, a hint of discomfort edging his features. And just when Dean wanted to ask what it was, he felt it.  
Right against his belly, through Sam's shirt and his own. IT was moving inside of Sam.  
The omega whimpered.  
“We've got a plan, baby. Okay? Don't worry. We're preparing everything for a surgery. We'll have a professional for it. Everything'll be set up by the end of the week and then we'll get it out of you, okay?” He carded his fingers through Sam's thick hair as he gave him a reassuring look.  
“What if ...” Sam couldn't finish the sentence.  
“There are no if's- It'll work. Trust me.” Dean wasn't sure if it would be that easy, but he'd be damned if he put even more weight and worries onto the man's shoulders right now. He had been through enough. He was going through enough.  
“I trust you,” Sam whispered. “I really do.”  
A grin formed on the ex-hunter's lips. “Good - So … why don't you take your shower now and I'll go talk to Bobby about Orthos? I'll be back before you're done, huh?”  
Sam nodded, a deep blush on his cheeks, when Dean crawled off of him and straightened his clothes out.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Sam went to get his shower as soon as Dean had left the house. He was gathering fresh clothes and towels and put them into the sink, before he got undressed. The omega was eyeing himself in the mirror. The scar on his face, mostly. He then stepped back and turned around, taking in the deep healed up claw-marks on his shoulders down to his shoulder-blades.  
He sighed deeply and closed his eyes for a moment, trying to forget about feeling so miserable and useless. Somehow, deep down he knew, that this couldn't be everything. What had he been before? Where had he been working and where was he from?  
Okay, he already read where he was from, but how could he possibly disappear after his parent's deaths? Just like that? Had he been a gangster? A drug-dealer? Or something much worse? A killer?  
How could it be, that there were no records about him anywhere?  
He sighed again and shook his head, before he decided to shove this part of his life aside. Maybe it was a good thing he didn't remember – with everything that was going on.  
Sam turned the warm water on and stepped into the shower-stall, letting the hot water run over his cool skin. He moaned comfortably, when the first drops of water hit his aching back and neck and finally head.  
Sometimes he had the feeling – under special occasions – that he had to remember things. Just like now. The feeling of the hot water against his skin and the need to not stand there too long and hurry up with it. He didn't know why, he was supposed to not let the water run for a ridiculous amount of time, he just knew he had to make it quick, or else it'd get uncomfortable for him. Even when he couldn't possibly tell what and why.  
So he soaped his hair and body and turned the water-temperature up another nudge, before he rinsed off.  
When he came out of the bathroom, Dean was back on the couch, with the laptop in his lap and was searching for information in the web.  
Sam sat down beside him and lurked over at the screen every now and then, stealing nosy glances at what Dean was currently reading.  
“Orthos's children shall bring hell upon the waking world,” Dean said out loud. “Thirteen death-bearing creatures shall be born and bring back what is long lost.”  
The omega frowned. “What does that mean?”  
“That whatever's growing inside of you, ain't nothin' good,” Dean murmured. “Orthos got two heads?”  
Sam shook his head. “No. Just like I told you and Bobby.”  
The alpha turned the laptop, so that Sam had a better look at the picture on the screen, who shook his head. “He doesn't look like that.”  
Dean huffed out a breath. “That’s it for lore,” he grumbled and shook his head. “You know when you've been sick for the last time? And … you know …”  
Sam ducked his head and looked aside. First he shook his head, but then thought. “One month before I got out,” he murmured thoughtfully. “Why?”  
Dean sighed and leaned back. He pinched the bridge of his nose and rubbed over his face. How was he supposed to explain this to Sam?  
“Because – Sammy – You weren't sick. Not really. You were in heat.” The straight way was the best one, Dean decided. “It's something that happens to omegas, you know? They go into heat every now and then … that's when they can get pregnant. So … I bet you're about four to five months into it. That's why you aren't showing yet.” This topic seemed to make him rather uncomfortable.  
Dean groaned as he shifted. His hip and calf were making problems again. “Which is a good thing though. It means we've time to figure things out. We don't have to hurry and may make mistakes.” He bit down on his lower lip and looked over at Sam, who seemed rather troubled now.  
“You think it's really evil? I mean … maybe it's not, right?” Huge hazel-green eyes looked at the ex-hunter.  
“Sammy...” He knew the omega didn't want to believe it, and it was cruel to tell someone that the unborn being inside of him wasn't any good.  
“I know … It's just ...” The omega sighed. “I don't want it to be evil.” He nearly sounded like a kid.  
“We'll fix it, okay? Don't you worry.” Dean laid the laptop aside and gathered Sam in his arms, holding him tight. “You wanna sleep with me tonight?” he asked calmly, “You know … just by my side …”  
Sam chuckled at the shy attempt of the hunter to explain himself. “I'd love to share a bed with you,” he whispered back.  
“Good … 'cause I'm freaking tired of hugging the shit out of my comforter.” The alpha kissed Sam's neck. “I'd rather hug the shit out of you.”

… to be continued


	16. Loosing You

Fields Of Jasmine  
Chapter 16 ~ Loosing You

It's been a week since Sam had spilled his little secret to the the ex-hunter. One week, in which everything seemed to be okay for once. A week, where the mood was light and no one seemed nearly as troubled as they maybe should have been.   
Garth had managed to get a complete set of medical equipment built up in Bobby's basement, including a table that looked a lot like those in a surgery-room. There were a bunch of monitors, an oxygen tank, something to monitor the omega's breathing and a whole lot of other special devices which were supposed to keep the omega alive in case that something was going wrong.   
Which everyone hoped that it wouldn't.   
Though …   
Jim had arrived three days ago and had checked on Sam. He had done an ultrasound, and what he and Dean saw on the screen made the blood in their veins run cold. It wasn't like they hadn't thought about what they'd probably see beforehand, but they sure as hell hadn't expected to see THIS.   
Sam wanted to have a look at the picture too.   
Which had only brought tears to the younger man's eyes.   
His baby – the thing growing inside of him – looked nothing like a human being. There was a tail and claws and something that looked like teeth.   
Sam had been shocked and sad and so angry – all at once. But Dean had been there to pick him up again and reassure him that everything would be fine. He had held him close to his chest, had kissed his head and promised that he'd feel better as soon as it'd be out of him. IT.   
The omega couldn't help but think about the being as baby nonetheless and for a short moment he thought about not caring that it'd rip him apart from the inside out and eat his organs. For a short moment, he wished that it'd happen that way, because he didn't want to imagine that this being would be killed.   
After all, it was a life, wasn't it? It had its right to exist and walk the earth.   
Then again … what if it would be a death-bringing creature sent by the devil himself to destroy the world?   
They had sat together in Bobby's kitchen and had talked about this. Had talked about how it was supposed to work and what they had planned. After all the research they had done, they had found out that they should be able to remove it just like a baby.   
The thought itself made the omega feel sick to his stomach and he felt the fetus in his belly revolt as if it was feeling what was going to happen very soon.   
Though, they had come to terms about everything and had given everyone the right place to be while Sam would be sleeping peacefully. Neither of them thought that it'd be a big deal even though they had thought about all the things which could go wrong. Jim had assured Sam that there was no need to worry, that the beast wouldn't be capable of living as soon as it'd be out of him.   
They had set the date of the surgery on Friday, when Jody would be off of work and would be able to play nurse at Jim's side.   
Dean was supposed to stay with Sam until the narcotics would start to work and then he'd hand Jim whatever he'd need, since Dean refused to wait outside.   
Ellen would be right there and would take care of the narcotics Sam would get through the oxygen-mask to keep him under.   
So far, everything sounded perfect and fine and as if nothing could go wrong.   
But no one had thought about the possibility of the impossible. 

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Thursday Morning, around 6 a.m. …..

Sam nestled into the alpha's chest, so that there was barely enough air to breathe left in the tiny space between the both of them. His arms were slung around Dean's middle, holding on to him in his slumber. He whimpered softly and his face contorted in tight lines of distress, tiny pearls of sweat covering the skin where it was exposed.   
“Sammy?” Dean had woken a few minutes before, not quite sure if he was supposed to wake the younger man or not.   
Though, Sam's distress seemed to increase drastically, along with his temperature. The omega was a burning furnace against the alpha's body right now.   
Sam whimpered again and made a noise deep down in his throat that sounded as if he was in pain.   
“Sammy. Wake up,” Dean murmured softly, as he carded his fingers through the omega's sweat-damp hair. “C'mon, baby.”  
The omega just made another pitiful sound.   
The alpha looked down onto the mop of hair with concern. This couldn't be good. It felt as if the younger man was starting to get sick … Not heat-sick. Just sick. He needed to take the man's temperature and likely get it down.   
Sam, on the other hand, didn't notice a lot. He only noticed that he didn't feel well. He felt was hot and cold at the same time, and his stomach kind of hurt. It felt as if the thing inside of him was clawing into his intestines or as if there wasn't enough space for the thing and Sam's organs.   
He heard a familiar voice from the distance, creeping through his dazed mind. Sam felt kind of weird, dislocated from his body and far, far away from it.   
“Sammy!” he heard the call again, feeling the immediate urge to follow the frantic order.   
“D’n,” he murmured – at least he thought he did.   
“Holy shit,” Dean ground out, feeling the younger man's forehead and neck. “You're burnin' up ...” He thought again about any possibility that Sam could've caught bacteria or viruses … He hadn’t been out without his jacket or not properly dressed the past few days.   
Dazed hazel appeared behind small slits and lashes.   
“There you go. You in any pain?” Of course, he asked that first, since he had to consider the sickness may was something supernatural. Something that had something to do with the pregnancy …   
Dean blew out a troubled sigh as he waited for Sam's answer.   
The omega blinked, not able to focus on Dean just yet.  
“No,” he breathed. “Yes.”  
“What hurts?”  
Sam's eyes fluttered shut and then opened again lazily. He fumbled for Dean's hand under the covers and when he found it, he guided it over to his stomach and held it there, since his voice would betray him.   
Dean Winchester cursed silently.   
Sam's hand tightened around Dean's for a moment, before he guided it up to his head slowly.   
“Yeah, you've got a fever, baby boy,” Dean spoke softly. “I'll go get the thermometer and something to drink.”  
Sam gave him a weak nod and let go of Dean's hand. The ex-hunter left Sam's side only hesitantly, not feeling good about leaving his mate alone right now. Then again, it was just a couple of yards, wasn’t it?   
The omega curled up into a tight ball, his arms wrapped around his middle as if to ease the sharp slicing pain in his gut. Sam swallowed. His throat felt dry and his tongue thick.   
Dean was back by his side without him realizing at first. He felt the mattress tip down and the weight beside him shift and then there was a hand against his shoulder, pushing.   
“I need you to turn over, baby,” Dean whispered into the darkness. Only a thin stream of light broke through the dark curtains and laid over Sam's face. “C'mon.” He guided him, though Sam stayed in nearly the same curled-up position on his back. He brushed over Sam's cheek and nudged at his jaw.   
Sam opened up and felt cool, hard material nudge at his tongue and Dean's hand guiding his mouth shut. The mattress shifted again and for a moment the omega thought that the older man would leave. He made a desperate sound and felt Dean's hand against his neck at the very next moment. Though, not in an attempt to comfort him. Dean was feeling his pulse.   
Sam made another sound as his hand searched for any part of the ex-hunter to make sure that he'd stay with him.   
Sam didn't want to be alone. He'd take everything, just not that. Not right now.  
“It's okay,” he spoke softly, “I'm here. Just another moment and we're done.”  
It felt like eternity until the thermometer beeped. Sam felt it being removed and waited. He could practically hear Dean squint at the led-display and make a disapproving sound.   
The ex-hunter murmured something.   
“Sammy,” Dean's voice sounded so close all of a sudden, “I need you to sit up and drink.” He bit his lower lip as he helped Sam into a sitting position.   
The omega struggled to keep himself upright, but it was no use. His arms and legs felt heavy and his whole torso did too. The feeling of his heart thumping rhythmically and slow against his ribs alone made him feel weird.   
Sam noticed another of Dean's attempts to get him up into a sitting position, before another sound followed and then he felt himself being sat up and arms around him and something move against his back. Soon after he found himself resting against an even moving surface and an arm around his middle.   
Then the comforter and blanket were pulled off of him and a shiver coursed through him as cool air hit his exposed skin.   
“Its okay. You need to cool down. Your fever's too high.” Sam felt the alpha's warm breath against his earlobe. “And I need you to drink something.”   
Sam felt something cool against his lips and then liquid flowed into his mouth. Sweet and cool and promising him heaven if he'd drink. The omega gulped half of the glass down before Dean took it away from him.   
“Good boy,” he praised him tenderly and stroked over Sam’s chest, avoiding to get closer to Sam's belly. “Jim's comin' to have a look at you.” His voice was still sleep-rough. “Just making sure that it's a cold ...” At least Dean wished that it was only the flu. After all they could deal with THAT. They could wait until Sam got better again, since they wouldn't be able to go through the surgery as long as he was sick and running a fever. It would be harder to deal if it was the beast revolting and causing the sickness. THEN pretty much everything was different and maybe more urgent – and dangerous.   
Dean shuddered at the very thought.   
Sam managed to lift his hand and lay it on top of Dean's above his heart. “You … you thi-ink it's a cold?” His voice broke. He sounded small and vulnerable and so miserable.   
“Sammy,” Dean sighed," He couldn't tell him what he thought this might could be. He also didn't want to lie to him either.   
“You … you think it's the baby ...” It wasn't really a question though.   
“Sammy," he spoke more warningly.   
Sam knew he didn't want him to call it that, but everything else seemed wrong to him. Maybe it was some weird omega-instinct to think that way. Maybe that was what others called mother-instinct. A need to protect their children …   
The sound of the front-door being opened was heard and the lights in the living-room went on and illuminated the bed-room in a dim light. Short after that, heavy foot-falls were heard and Pastor Jim appeared with a bag in his left hand, aiming straight for them.   
Sam shivered and his hand found instinctively his belly, feeling the being inside of him shift and move.   
“Where's our patient?” the older man's voice cut through the silence.   
Dean shifted behind him and then the bedside-lamp was switched on, so that Sam squeezed his eyes shut, even when he had them closed. The soft light made the throbbing in his head worse.   
The omega whimpered and turned his head away from the light's offspring.   
“Hey," Sam greeted the white-haired man.   
“Did you feel bad today?” Jim asked, while he put his bag beside Sam's long legs.   
Sam needed a bit to figure out that he was talking to him and had to process the question before he could only shake his head.   
“Did you cough?” he kept on asking while getting a stethoscope out of the bag.   
Again, Sam needed some time before he shook his head, telling him no.   
“He didn't. I woke up half an hour ago and he was running a fever," Dean explained calmly, with genuine concern in his voice. “He said his stomach and his head hurt. Maybe a bug?” Of course, the ex-hunter figured that it was wishful thinking and that they wouldn't get away that easy, not under this circumstances.   
It had never been that easy to be a Winchester, not that Dean thought that this was about him. Well, maybe it was. Some seriously bad mojo surrounding him and pulling others down with him. Others like Sam. People he liked. People he loved. They were dying around him all the fucking time.   
He couldn't bare to loose anyone else. Especially not Sam.   
Not now.   
Not like this.   
Jim hummed as he tugged the young omega's shirt up and put the stethoscope to his chest. “Your lungs sound good," he spoke softly, “No wet sounds. No rattling. No whistling.” He sounded pensive.   
The pastor felt for Sam's pulse and got a look in his eyes. He then moved down to the younger man's belly and prodded at it.   
“It's moving a lot, isn't it?” Jim's eyes met Sam's, looking for confirmation and Sam nodded.   
“What is it, doc?” Dean asked, thick waves of concern in his scent, mixing with anxiety. Pleading emerald-green eyes begged Jim to tell him that it wasn't what he was fearing.   
Jim sighed and gave him an apologetic gaze. “I want him to take two of the pills I'll give you now. One in an hour and another one in two hours.” He tore his gaze away from Dean and caught Sam's eyes again. “We'll get everything ready for the surgery now. Try to sleep. Get as much rest as you can.” He rummaged in this bag and pulled out a bottle, handing it to Dean. “I think it's about time to speed things up," he added with a meaningful glance.   
Sam felt tears burning in his eyes. He might had a fever and he didn't feel well, but he sure knew what this meant. What Jim meant.   
That this was final. That they were going to take the life growing inside of him away. And that they were right by doing so. He knew it had to be. Even though … it hurt so bad.   
“Shush," Dean whispered, his second arm wrapping around the younger man. “I promise everything'll be okay. You won't even notice, right?” He gave the Pastor a look. He knew what a bad liar he was. He knew it wouldn't be alright just by removing the thing. It was more difficult than that.   
Sam would probably feel loss. He'd feel physical pain for quite some time, not to mention the emotional pain. Dean knew that. He could feel it; he could feel things like that even though they hadn't happened yet.   
He rubbed up and down the omega's bicep in light strokes.   
Jim sighed and watched them for some time before he rose and packed up his bag. “I'll call you when we're ready," he said before he turned to leave the room, after the Alpha had given him a nod.   
Sam curled up and turned on his side, so that he was resting against Dean's chest with his ear, listening to the soothing thumps. He whimpered again and pressed his cheek into the man's chest.  
Dean cupped his head in one of his hands and held it for a while, hoping that Sam would calm down a bit. He had no such luck anyways, so he gave him the two pills and something from the juice to swallow them down.   
Not long after, Sam started to calm down a bit. His whimpers grew more silent and his breaths evened out, the muscles in his face seemed more smooth and not as strained as before.   
The alpha stroked Sam's side, shoulder and neck, not bothered by the sharp bone of Sam’s other shoulder digging into his rib-cage, not bothered by the saliva soaking his shirt's front, or the weight Sam was crushing him with against the headboard.   
He kept on stroking over Sam's hair and the back of his neck, his cheek and shoulder. He held Sam close, feeling his slowing breaths against his body and the tender warmth of him seeping through the fabric of his worn-out gray AC/DC shirt.   
Dean Winchester was happy. For the first time in a long time, except for the circumstances they were in, he felt utterly satisfied and in peace with himself and the world. Well, at least he would as soon as Sam would be freed from the creature and on the mend again.   
Of course the situation wouldn't be done then. He knew that. He also knew that this was probably only the beginning of something bigger than they could all imagine at the moment.   
Well, they had read about Orthos and his children coming for humanity and the world. But then again, when did the evil ever NOT come for humanity?   
Dean was certain, though, that there was much more about this as they already knew.   
The things they had found were pretty shady. There had to be a way bigger picture. His guts told him that.   
His guts told him, too, to take one step at a time and that he needed Sam to be safe and out of trouble first, before he'd be able to take off and hunt that demon-bitch and her dark spawn down for good. 

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Exactly an hour after his first doze, Dean gave Sam the second pill, right before he seemed to get more agitated again.   
“It's fine, baby.” Dean whispered, “We'll take care of you, okay?”  
He felt the younger man's forehead once more and made a relieved noise back in his throat as he noticed that his fever was decreasing. “You're doing so good," he praised his mate tenderly, smoothing sweaty locks of brown hair back. “I know you're a tough guy, Sammy. You'll manage, right? You'll pull through ...”   
A soft sound fell from Sam’s lips and he shifted, curling up a bit more, his toes curling in and his arms pulled tight to his chest like a frightened kid.   
“Hurts," he murmured barely audible, but so loud in the darkness that Dean couldn't not hear it. “Dean … it hurts ...”  
The ex-hunter's forehead creased in lines of worry and he shushed him again. “I know, sweetheart. I know. It'll be over soon...”  
Sam made another sound. This time it sounded much more like an approval. His hand found the alpha's shirt and tangled his fingers in the soft material, the muscles in his hand working as if he wasn't sure to grip it or not. 

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

An hour later, Jim called and told Dean to give Sam another doze of the pills and asked if he'd need help to get the omega into Bobby's house. Dean Winchester denied with a grateful thanks. He wouldn't need any help carrying Sam those few yards.   
Sam was out cold by the time Dean had gotten himself ready and had Sam wrapped up in a blanket. He carried Sam bridal-style, the omega's head resting in the crook of his neck and his arms laid over his middle under the blanket. Bare feet poked out from under it as they swung with Dean's movements.   
The ex-hunter was welcomed by an open front door and Ellen waiting there for him. She brushed Sam's cheek as they went by and gestured towards the back, where the door into the basement was. Of course, this was open too.   
He heard hushed voices and the dim light of the single bulb dangling from the ceiling and the bright light from the panic room.   
Sam stirred again and made a barely audible sound.   
Dean shushed him.   
When they entered the demon-and-ghost-proof panic room, Dean's face landed on the surgery table. The alpha's throat went dry all of a sudden, facing that it was about to become very real.   
He stopped for a moment, just a foot away from the table and eyed it. He then gazed at Jim, who was already dressed in blue scrubs and gloves. Jody was, too. Garth and Bobby stood behind him at the door, guarding it. Medical equipment was put around the table, all attached to an electric generator in the back.   
Dean Winchester blew out a shuddering breath and had to close his eyes for a long moment, pushing away a wave of nausea. He knew about the risks. He knew that there high likely wouldn't be any too.   
The only problem was, that it certainly never worked as he figured it would.   
He gave himself a nudge and laid Sam out on the table, feeling the younger man shudder against the cool material beneath him.   
“It's okay, baby, I'm right here," he whispered as he brushed over Sam's cheek when lines of distress started to form on his face. “I'm right here. I'll be with you when you wake up, baby.”  
He looked up and shared gazes with each and everyone when he started to unbutton Sam's shirt and get it off of him. Ellen came in and made an attempt to help, but Dean told her with a single look that he had it under control. This was his job. His omega. His mate.   
He watched goosebumps form all over Sam's exposed skin. For the first time he had a look at him as a whole. At the scars and claw-marks. The darkened and scarred skin around his ankles, which Sam was always eager to hide.   
Dean tried to not look THERE though. Not without Sam's permission. Not without … he didn't know himself, but he sure as hell knew that it wasn't okay to stare, even when it looked pretty impressive from what he saw.   
He pulled a white sheet over Sam's lower body-half, as his gaze landed on his slightly bulged belly and the barely there movement beneath his skin.   
Dean kissed his mate on the forehead tenderly before he stepped back and gave him over into the hands of his friends, trusting them to fix him.  
Jim gestured for Jody to put the oxygen mask over Sam's nose and mouth. Meanwhile Ellen started to slip into blue scrubs too and hide her hair underneath a surgical hat and her face behind a mask.   
Dean stepped back from the table and walked back until his back hit the wall.   
He saw, when Sam started to react to the anaesthesia and the rest of the tension in his body faded away. 

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Sam was attached to a heart-monitor and another screen which was showing his vitals. There were needles in both of his arms, bags of saline attached to each one.   
There were candles lit in the room, though not for light. It was part of the ritual to keep the beast in place before they'd be able to remove it; to keep it from causing any damage to Sam's body while Jim would extract it.   
There was an ancient sigil in a circle drawn with black ink on Sam's belly and one over his heart for protection.   
None of them knew if it would work, but they dearly hoped so. It wasn't like any one of them had ever done something like that before. Whenever they had cases with parasites nesting in a human's body, they had come too late or hadn't been able to help in time.   
Dean watched Pastor Jim closely since the moment he ordered Ellen to hand him the scalpel. The Winchester took in everyone's movements around Sam like a hawk.  
Half an hour into the surgery, Jim seemed to become a bit hectic in his movements. Jody's gaze flickered from Sam's open belly up at Jim's face, sharing glances with him, meaningful glances.   
“What's wrong?” Dean's voice was hoarse as if he hadn't spoken in days.   
He didn't get an answer. Instead he was damned to watch Jim Murphy's hands started to try to grab something. Dean heard the man curse, and Jody take a sharp inhale.   
“Dammit," Dean hissed and pushed away from the wall. “What's goin' on?!” he snarled, his look turning serious.   
“Not now, Dean," Jody spoke up. “We've got this. Trust us.” It was definite edge to her mom-voice.   
Jim cursed again.   
Sam's blood pressure started to drop and his heart rate to increase.   
“Jim.” Jody ground out. “We need to get it out.”  
His vitals were dropping further.   
“I've got it.” The pastor struggled with something. “It's damn slippery.”  
… with blood. Dean added in his mind. … with Sam's blood. He made another step towards his mate and friends.   
A shriek wrenched from the sheriff's throat and the very next moment, something dark and crimson slipped through their hands and into an iron bowl right where Dean couldn't see it.   
“We gotta stop the bleeding," Jim waved at Ellen and gave her an order to insert adrenaline into Sam's I.V. “Get a pint O positive and get it ready.”  
Dean's eyes widened at the sudden urgency in Jim's voice and the tension that filled the room. He stood there like frozen, all color draining from his face when he watched the numbers on the monitors drop further.   
The iron bowl tipped over and the fetus landed on the floor with a wet sound.   
No one paid attention to it … until it started to twitch and shift and something looking like a tail was uncurling itself. It looked thin with three claw-like extensions on its end.   
Bobby was the first one to notice, since he was the first one to point his sawed off at the thing.   
It twitched again. The tiny body jerking as if electrocuted. Bobby stood at a bad angle, though. He'd hit either one of Jody's or Jim's feet if he'd shoot now, so he shifted and started to walk sideways, his gun pointed at the thing.   
Before he was in the right position to make a shot without hitting anyone else, it became more agitated and eventually it extended its four legs and white ebony-like eyes gazed into Bobby's direction.   
Taken aback by the sudden fill of life, Bobby froze for a short moment. It took him too long to shake off his surprise.   
The thing was one sneaky bastard, that much had to be said. While Jim, Ellen and Jody were working on saving Sam's life, the small beast was out of the panic room and vanished in the darkness before any of the five shots could possibly hit it.   
Garth and Bobby followed it.   
Dean remained frozen in his place like a statue, not able to stare anywhere but his mate and the monitors. He didn't even hear Jim barking orders at Jody and Ellen. He wasn't able to understand what was being yelled, what it was they were worried about. But he damn well knew that it was about Sam and that he was going to die if the doctor wouldn't be able to stop the bleeding … 

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

A blue Ford Mustang was parked about a mile away from the Salvage, hidden by trees.   
A blonde girl climbed out of it at the driver's side, a satisfied grin on her lips, her hands crimson with some poor bastard's blood whose throat she had slit before.   
Obsidian eyes gleamed in the bright light of the winter sun and she turned towards Singer's Salvage.  
Calling Orthos’s child and bringing it to life earlier wasn't something she had planned to do. But time was scarce and Meg couldn’t - wouldn’t - wait for another psychic omega-kid to be found … or rather born.   
They needed Sam's.   
So here she was, waiting for its call.   
But nothing had happened so far, even when it should've been born already.   
For a long moment, she stared ahead and thought. Eventually, she took off towards the Salvage. She'd have to call it to her, but for that, she needed to be closer to it. And she had to hurry. Finding those small sneaky beasts, in case they hadn't someone they were bonded with, was an annoying task.   
Which she definitely didn't want to try out.   
Meg carried a collar and a leash, murmuring words in Latin.   
It didn't take her long to find the child and draw it closer towards her with her chant. It had to follow those orders. It was in its genes.   
Though, unlikely the others, this one was a little rebel. It hissed and growled at her and nearly bit her pointer finger off as it snapped at her hand when Meg tried to get the collar around its neck.   
“Looks like we've got a rebellious one, huh?” she snarled as she grabbed it by its neck. 

… to be continued


	17. On the Run

Fields Of Jasmine  
Chapter 17 ~ On the Run

Dean Winchester sat on the stairs of the basement, head in his shaking hands. He had hoped that everything would go well. He had prayed that, for once, fate would spare him drama and emotional pain and all that shit that'd come along when you were about to lose someone dear.   
It wasn't like he had lost his mate. He'd feel it if he had.   
After Jim had ordered Ellen to get Dean out of the room, Dean had sat down on the stairs with his hunting-knife in hand, waiting for the creature to turn up. Well, he knew that it wouldn't and that it was most likely gone already, that it snuck outside somehow …   
But fact was, that he needed to kill something, ideally that THING. It was its fault that Sam was behind that iron door, fading. It was its fault that Sam was in there and that he was out here and that he had to listen to Jim's muffled orders and the following, outstretched silence.   
This was torture, worse than any kind of it he had ever endured.   
How could someone so different from him mean so much?   
Dean Winchester didn't think that he'd be able to survive without feeling the closeness of a mate. He couldn’t imagine not feeling Sam's body close to his, or not seeing those dimples or the spark in those colorful eyes.   
He didn't want anything but to be in there behind that door, but Jim had been right. He wasn't supposed to be in there and watch. He had already seen too much: too much of Sam's blood, too much of his pale skin, his bluish lips, too much of intestines and the jerks his body gave when they electrocuted him to get his heart back on track.   
Those pictures, those memories, wouldn't leave him alone. They might haunt him for the rest of his life.   
He cursed and shook his head, trying to think about something else, about revenge on the demon and that beast. 

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

It took another hour before the iron door creaked open and Jim appeared in the doorway, already changed out of his bloody scrubs, and remained in gray trainers and a t-shirt. The old man looked exhausted, but he held Dean's gaze, as there was no bad news to tell. There was this spark of relief on the Pastor's face that told him that Sam wasn't dead.   
“Jim?” Dean asked hoarsely.  
“He's okay, boy,” the older man said. “For now. I know you don't want to bring him into a hospital, but he's unstable. He's lost too much blood.” The pastor paused for a moment and Dean frowned. “We do have the supplies to deal with those issues, but I'm not a surgeon and my skills are limited, Dean. I'd feel better if we could get him into a hospital, where they can take proper care of him.”   
Dean rose to his feet and nodded, bypassing Jim Murphy on his way inside the spare iron-clad walls.   
He stared with wide eyes at the prone pale figure on the examination table. His still slightly blue lips and all that blood on the floor… then his gaze landed on the screens and suddenly he felt sick. How could he have allowed himself and his friends to believe that this would be okay; that they could do something like that in a basement and not in a proper room?   
How could he?  This was his omega, his mate lying there, obviously fighting for his life.   
How could he not see how wrong he had been?  
“It was the right decision, Dean. It'd have caused a lot of problems in a hospital. And now it is time to change the plan, okay? He's stable. He'll make it through when he gets the help he needs.” The pastor paused. “I know someone who knows someone. A state over, there's this hospital… a friend of mine works there…”  
Dean stepped up to the table beside Sam and took his cool hand in his. He shuddered at the lack of emotions coming from the omega as he touched him. Usually, there'd be the strong odor of Jasmine flooding the room, but all he could smell were sweat and sickness and only a faint hint of Sam.   
“How're we supposed to get him there? Ain't like we can put him on the load-bed of Bobby's pickup...” He chewed his bottom-lip.   
The alpha thought for another moment, before he leaned down over Sam and placed a gentle kiss to his forehead, since his nose and mouth were still covered by the mask. The second kiss was even more tender and he let his lips linger on the clammy skin.   
“I’ll be back in no time, Sammy. Promise,” he whispered against the omega's skin. He then looked at Jim. “I'll get us an ambulance. I'm takin' Garth with me. We'll be back in two hours tops.” And that was all he would say before he and the scrawny alpha left in his baby. 

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

They were back an hour and a half after they had left, bringing a fully equipped ambulance. Meanwhile, Jim and Ellen had prepared Sam for the transport, while Bobby and Jody made some space, so they would have enough room to get Sam out of the basement and the house on a gurney.   
They sure hadn't figured this one out properly, though. It'd be quite a task to get the giant man up the stairs and around the corner into the corridor, which led into the hall, without jarring him too much.   
The air inside the house was thick with tension when Dean entered to tell them that they were ready.   
He stopped in the middle of the hall, where Bobby was waiting for them to return. Instantly, Dean's alarm bells went off as Bobby was missing Jim and Ellen.   
“They're downstairs, keeping an eye on Sam,” Bobby said without being asked, his voice calm and gentle. “Sam's stable so far.”  
The alpha only nodded before he hurried back and down into the basement, where he found Jim and Ellen standing beside the table. Ellen was holding Sam's hand, rubbing its back with her thump and smiled up at Dean warmly, when she saw him enter.   
“He's okay, boy,” she left the “for now” unspoken, but Dean knew. Sam was far away from being out of the woods.   
“We've got the ambulance,” he stated and crossed the last couple of yards between the doorway and the table.   
“I've called my friend. They're getting everything ready and should be done by the time we get there,” Jim said.   
Ellen stepped aside and gave Sam's hand to Dean.   
“We'll get the gurney,” She waved at Jim to come with her.   
When the two were halfway upstairs, they heard loud curses and Bobby telling Garth to be more careful and not a complete idiot.   
Dean watched the oxygen-mask covering Sam's mouth and nose mist when he exhaled. He counted the seconds and watched his chest rise. The ex-hunter gazed up at the screen and watched the oxygen saturation. It was way too low and the pauses in between his breaths were way to long.  
“Sammy,” Dean whispered and smoothed his hair back. “I'm here. I'm waiting for you to wake up,” he said softly. “I'm not goin' anywhere.”  
A thump and another curse was heard and a moment later, Bobby and Garth entered with the gurney in their hands. Jim was right after them and moved to Sam's side, where he started to remove the ECG and other wires. When he was done, he stepped aside and made room for Bobby and Garth, who adjusted the gurney properly.  
Dean moved to the omega's head and reached under his shoulders, nodding towards Jim and Bobby that he was ready to get Sam on the gurney. Together they lifted Sam's dead weight and arranged him on the gurney, so that he looked somewhat comfortable. They then fastened the belts around Sam, so his arms and legs would stay in place when they moved him.   
After thirty agonizing minutes and Dean getting to the point where he thought that they'd never get his mate out of the basement, they eventually left Bobby's house. Jody was waiting on the porch and threw a thick blanket over Sam's half-naked body before they loaded him into the ambulance.   
All their breaths made little clouds in the crispy air and Dean shuddered.   
It had cooled down again.   
They all stood there and looked inside, watching Dean check on his omega carefully. Jim climbed in right after him and waved at Garth to get behind the wheel.   
“I'll follow,” Bobby said and looked over at Ellen who gave him a nod.   
“Me too,” she added right away.   
Jody's eyebrows furrowed. “I … I can't.”  
“We know,” Dean looked up and gave her a grateful nod. “Thanks. For everything.”  
Bobby shut the doors and Jim gave the scrawny alpha behind the wheel the order to get on the road.   
Jim attached monitors to Sam again and put an oxygen mask on him, taking his vitals. He hung the saline drip and blood transfusion up on a hook on the ceiling of the vehicle and turned them back on.  
Sam’s oxygen saturation was lower now that he had been without the oxygen to support his breathing …   
Dean Winchester blew out a breath and tugged an extra blanket around Sam's feet and lower belly. He shared a short glance with Jim, who fought to not look worried, but he did.   
The drive to the Trinity Regional Medical Center was calm, except for the common noises while driving and the screens making little beeps. Dean stayed practically glued to the omega's side and refused to let go. Even when he changed his sitting-position, he kept one hand somewhere on Sam, not wanting Sam to feel as if he'd left his side.   
After all, he had promised. 

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Three agonizing hours later, they arrived in Fort Dodge, Iowa, passing the city's line. Another thirteen minutes later, they pulled up behind the medical center. Jim got his phone out of his coat and called his friend, who was there another couple of minutes later.   
Including a nurse and a security person.   
He introduced them as Becca and James. Two of his most trustworthy staff members, as he told the small group, when they eyed the two suspiciously.   
Becca wasn't one of the typical old, or really hot nurses. She seemed to be about thirty with huge round glasses and definitely a cat-woman. Besides that and those tiny feet, which stuck in baby-blue trainers, she smelled like beta.  
James was a huge, muscled guy, with long dark hair and a pony tail, definitely an alpha type of person. No one in his right sense of mind would want to get into a fight with James.   
After settling that Dean wouldn't go anywhere and leave Sam's side, they eventually got the gurney inside and moved the wounded omega onto the fifth floor into a single room.   
Jim and his friend, a senior staff member, Dr. Brennan Cavenaugh, stayed outside the room, where the pastor filled him in on what had happened and babbled something in medical jargon about what he thought that the issues were.   
When Dr. Cavenaugh came into the room, Sam was already moved into a regular bed and attached to another couple of monitors and tubes and cables. He then examined the omega thoroughly and inspected the stitched up cut on his lower abdomen. He nudged and prodded the soft and slightly swollen skin and made a satisfied sound.   
“Looks like you've done a great job, Jim,” he said and glanced at his friend, before he looked over at Dean, who was watching the doctor like a hawk.   
“Did he wake up during the drive?”  
Dean shook his head.   
“Well … that's not that bad. We'll give him antibiotics and another pint of blood in a couple of hours.” Cavenaugh pursed his lips. “So … a parasite?”  
Everyone in the room nodded.   
Becca and James stood among the hunter's and listened, as if they dealt with things like that on a regular basis. Other civilians would've freaked out by now or accused them to be bum-fuck crazy.  
“It's a good thing you brought him in. Becca?” The doctor looked up and the nurse took a step forward. “Get a H2BQ ready and exchange this one with it.” He gestured at the saline drip attached to Sam's arm. “When it's through, get a second one.”  
Dean frowned. “What's that?”  
“It's a special mixture of herbs and holy water. We came up with it after we lost a hand full of hunters due infected wounds which were caused by creatures,” Becca spoke up.   
“It should keep away an infection that not quite natural … if you know what I mean?” The doctor smirked at the group.   
Bobby's lips twitched.   
Dean's forehead creased. “Will it help?”  
“Hopefully. We've never had someone with a monster's parasite before … so … I can't tell for sure,” Cavenaugh explained calmly. “I hope that there isn’t even is an infection, but I guess we'll notice as soon as we give it to him. If there is an infection by anything the creature may left inside of him, like saliva or poison, he'll get a fever.”  
Dean's frown increased. “And if he does? What're you gonna do then?”  
“We'll give him something for the fever,” Becca said with a smile, telling him that he shouldn't worry. “We're not doing this for the first time, Mister Winchester.”  
Bobby huffed out a breath. “I bet you aren’t. Why didn't we get Sam here in the first place?”  
Jim looked back at his old friend, “Sam might not have made it.”  
“We couldn't have used one of our operating rooms. Someone could've noticed,” Cavenaugh said. “James's gonna keep watch in front of your room. The nurses on this floor all do know about monsters so don't worry. We also tend to keep our patient's private things private. None of my staff will ask questions or judge. This is a safe place.”  
He looked around and frowned. “And I can't have a bunch of healthy hunters hanging around here at night. It'd cause ripples...”  
Garth tugged his cap up and patted Bobby's shoulder. Bobby glared down at the scrawny alpha and Garth pulled his hand back again, guiltily.   
“We'll go and find us a motel,” Bobby spoke up. “I'll stop by tomorrow and bring you coffee and breakfast.”

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

When Becca came back with a bag which looked a lot like a common saline drip, Dean's friends were gone and the ex-hunter sat in a chair right beside Sam's bed, stroking up and down the omega's lower arm.   
The nurse didn't say anything. She exchanged the infusion and was gone again within minutes, after noting Sam's vital signs to the board at the end of his bed.   
Doctor Cavenaugh stopped by an hour later to check on Sam, prodding at his lower abdomen, and informed the alpha that everything seemed to be okay before he left again.   
Dean knew asking when Sam was supposed to wake up wasn't necessary. He knew that it'd take time and that Sam would wake up when he was ready. He knew that no one could possibly tell for sure when Sam would or not.   
So he kept his mouth shut and concentrated on his mate.   
Slowly but surely, Sam's sweet scent flooded the room, far slower and way more faint than it should have. It was the cool chill and the faintness of the jasmine odor that made Dean worry.   
Some time during the night, he fell asleep at Sam's side, his head resting on his arms, burying Sam's underneath him.   
For the first time in a long time, he didn't have a wet dream about Sam. Not even one of the more cuddly ones, where they'd only lie side by side in his bed in each others arms. It felt as if their bond was weakened, somehow. Usually, even when the omega was in another room and deep asleep, he'd at least feel his presence.   
But now it was different. It felt as if Sam wasn't completely there … 

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

When he woke, sunbeams shone into the room and warmed Dean Winchester's back. He groaned in discomfort, the muscles and fading bruises on his back protested against being moved.   
He sniffed and blinked and tightened his grip on Sam's hand where his fingers were intertwined with Sam’s.   
“Mornin', Sammy,” he murmured, though he knew there wouldn't be an answer.   
When the ex-hunter managed to sit up and while he stretched, his gaze flickered up at the monitors. Sam's vitals hadn't dropped further, which may was a good sign. But he was running a slight fever now. Nothing dangerous, it looked like, though it still made Dean worry.   
That and the fact that he still felt kind of alone due the lack of the omega's presence.   
Dean rose from the chair and winced, bracing himself against the mattress to help himself get into an upright position. He reached for the front pocket of his jeans and huffed out a breath, surprised that he hadn't forgotten to pocket his pills.   
He glanced at the clock above the door of the room and thought for a moment, before he looked down at Sam. Dean decided that he wouldn't leave Sam's side.   
Bobby had said that he'd drop by with coffee and breakfast, anyway, so he'd take the Vicodin a bit later and not risk missing Sam's awakening.   
“Looks like you're doin' better, sweetheart.” He smiled a bit. Sam truly looked better. He had more color in his face and there was this slight blush, due the fever, painting his cheeks. Dean leaned in and smoothed the omega's hair back.  
“You gotta wake up, you know. I can't have you goin' all Rapunzel on me.” He leaned further down and suppressed a wince. The muscles in his calf and thigh protested, and his hip gave an angry pop at the movement. The alpha kissed Sam's forehead and brushed over his cheek.   
After a while of leaning over the bed and whispering sweet nothings into the younger man's ear, he decided that he couldn't wait any longer for Bobby to stop by and get him breakfast, before he'd take his pills.   
He got water from the bathroom and popped two of his Vicodin pill. He then walked up and down the room and stretched his right leg, hip and his sore back until some of the stiffness disappeared.   
Shortly before eight thirty, Bobby came as promised. With him was Ellen, who brought Sam’s blanket, the blanket that the omega was familiar with, the one that had been in his bedroom …   
Ellen handed it to Dean, who took it with a grateful nod from her. Of course it was only a blanket after all, but it was also the one that he had held dear since the very day he had moved into Bobby's house for the first time after he had gotten away from the nest.   
Sam somehow seemed to love that old but cozy thing. He had taken it with him when he moved to Columbus and it had been with him when he came back to Sioux Falls and moved into Dean's house.   
It was all Sam's, so maybe it'd do Sam some good when he'd wake up in this foreign place with that stinging smell of antiseptic fluid and sterile sheets. It'd be something more familiar, carrying the scent of their home.   
“How's he doing?” Bobby asked, while he watched Dean drape the blanket on top of Sam's comforter.   
“He's running a slight fever. His vitals are better than yesterday though,” Dean answered softly. He traced with his finger over Sam's cheek. “Sam hasn’t woken up yet.”   
Bobby came up beside Dean and patted his shoulder. “Yeah. He looks better, son.” He tried to smile but failed miserably at the attempt.  
He looked over at Bobby and gave him a weak smile. “I can't feel him.”  
The grizzled hunter's bushy eyebrows pulled together.   
“At least, not the way I'm supposed to,” Dean added pensively. “Was it the same with Karen?”  
“It was different. Karen … There wasn't anything left in her body. It was only instincts and the urge to eat humans. It wasn't her anymore. When I came home ... I didn't feel her fade. She was just … gone.” Bobby rarely spoke about her. He didn't speak about the day he came home to find his wife and beloved mate turned into a zombie.   
Until now.   
Dean smiled at him warmly, but looked serious again the very next moment. “I don't think it feels like fading … it's like … like he's here but also not.”  
Bobby shook his head. “You said it yourself. He's going to pull through. Karen once had the flu and when she got this really high fever and I had to take her to the hospital … I felt our bond weaken, and I thought she was going to die. I really thought she'd die. But she didn't. It felt like she was calling out to me from the other side of the shore … But she came back.”  
Dean nodded as he looked down at Sam with this longing look once more, his soul calling out to his mate.   
“Go eat. You're no use to Sam when he wakes up and finds you passed out beside him.” Bobby patted his shoulder once more. “And then we'll see if we can't get a second bed in here, since I bet that you won't leave him for just a moment.” He smiled and winked at Dean.   
Dean gave him the “you know me” look and took the paper bag from his old friend. The alpha moved around the bed and sat down in his chair, where he put the bag in his lap and took out a paper cup, which smelled a lot like coffee and a box.   
Dean hummed at the delicious smell and took his first sip. There was nothing like coffee from a real coffee shop and not from a hospital's cafeteria.   
In the box were doughnuts, one with chocolate chips, and one with Raspberry filling. He ate it all up and emptied the coffee.   
Around ten, Becca appeared and took Sam's vitals, then checked on his temperature and didn't look pleased at all.  
It had increased since the morning, though it refused to rise higher than 102.3.   
The first thing after starting her shift had been to take Samuel Harvelle's vitals and check on his temperature. She had snuck into the room with the first rays of sunlight and had checked on her patient, carefully and silent, as to not wake the alpha.   
“We should really get you a bed,” she said with a mischievous smile. “That half-chair/half-bed thing didn't look very comfortable.” She paused to scribble Sam's vitals onto the board and then looked up again. “I'll give him another drip with H2BQ and antibiotics in about an hour.”  
Dean gave her a hesitant nod. “And for his fever?”  
“Nothing for the moment. If it increases more and gets higher than 102.5, I'll get him something,” she answered calmly. 

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

They took his Sam to a CT-scan and a couple of other tests, which couldn't be taken in the room. They would get a better look at what was going on, or so Doctor Cavenaugh had told Dean. The tests lasted for about three hours, in which Dean was pacing the corridor uneasily, worried that, the longer it took, something was wrong and that, maybe, they had to take Sam into surgery again.   
Without telling him.   
Though, it wasn't like that.   
Sam was brought back into his room and got settled and shortly after that, Doctor Cavenaugh was back, too, and explained what kind of tests they put him through. It was actually a lot of medical stuff, which Dean didn't quite understand.   
When it came to Sam's current state and the results of the tests, Dean's ears perked up.   
“Jim told me that Sam's special in a lot of ways…” he started and then sighed, seemingly not quite comfortable.   
Dean only nodded, prompting the doctor to continue. Any questions he had could be asked later on too.   
“Jim got me the medical reports of the other victims, so I could have a better look at the whole situation. And … I can't say a whole lot about those who got … mauled. But I can tell that Sam's been pregnant.”  
Dean wanted to speak up, but Cavenaugh stopped him with a raised hand. “I'm getting there. I've run some blood tests and yes. He's been pregnant, like the other three that the coroners had run special tests on. This is … important, because it means that there could be a side effect to deal with. It's a difference with carrying a parasite. And yes I know it's not as if it's a human being, a baby. It means that Sam's hormones are working in overdrive. It's a psychological thing to deal with. He's supposed to have a baby, but there's none. For him it may feel like he's lost his baby. That’s what I wanted to say.”  
Dean's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “You mean tell me, that … that he's going to grieve about that thing?” It sounded absurd.   
The doctor shook his head. “It depends on how Sam felt about being pregnant. I'm just saying that it’s like in any other pregnancy where the mother – I’m going to say mother – looses her baby. It's hard for them to cope.”   
“But it's not even human,” Dean barked out. What the hell? “I've been talking with him about it; he understood.”  
The doctor quirked an eyebrow, “Yeah? Did he really understand?”   
The ex-hunter blew out a slow breath as he eyed the other man wearily.   
“I'm not saying that he gets shit-crazy or that he's going to loose his mind over it. It could be – due his hormones and the way he should be supposed to feel about a baby, that he might become depressive. I want you to know that it will pass.” Doctor Cavenaugh paused again. He seemed to think for a long moment before he continued. “There might be other changes, too, which I will explain to Samuel when he's coherent enough to understand. Jim had to remove his uterus with the parasite.”  
Dean eyed him shocked and wide-eyed. “What? You tellin' me that … He … but ...”  
“Intersex comes in a lot of ways, Dean. He had a uterus and that he could get pregnant doesn't mean that he would have been able to have a baby in a normal way though. His pelvis's too narrow and his … well … lets just say it wouldn't have worked.”  
Dean stood there, not knowing what to say, not sure if he'd be able to listen to any more of what the doctor had to tell him. “But he's okay, right? He'll get through this?”   
That was the most important part, anyway. Everything else would be processed in time.   
Doctor Cavenaugh nodded. “I am positive about that.” He cleared his throat. “So … I have to go and check on some other patients. If you have any questions … I'll stop by tonight and check on Sam.”  
The ex-hunter only nodded and swallowed thickly, looking back down at Sam, still unconscious, on the bed.   
 ~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

 

That night, Dean had a hospital bed in the same room to sleep in. It still felt, due to the yard in between his and Sam's beds, as if his mate was too far away. But he knew it was necessary that they had to have room around Sam's bed in case they'd need it.   
Becca gave the omega something against the fever before she went home, as it had increased further.   
He felt Sam's presence stronger at some points now, and from time to time it would feel as if it was barely there. Dean had his arm stretched out over the distance, but he could not reach Sam. Dean decided that the staff would still have enough room to work if he pushed the bed over another foot.   
When that was done, he was able to reach the omega's lower arm and have his hand rest over it, feeling the warmth of the younger man against his cool palm.   
Dean was about to drift off when he thought he felt something move. His fingers twitched at the sensation and his forehead furrowed in confusion.   
It was then that he felt it, so intensive and strong, a call, a poke at his mind, telling him to wake the fuck up and look over to the other bed.   
Dean Winchester's eyes snapped open and for a long moment he didn't dare to look over at the other bed. When he did, however, a broad grin formed on his lips and lit up his eyes. 

… to be continued


	18. Whispers In The Dark

Fields Of Jasmine  
Chapter 18 ~ Whispers In The Dark

Dean gasped.   
The sheer overwhelming flood of foreign emotions washed over him like a tsunami. The mixture of feelings remained somehow calming, though. Knowing that Sam was coming back to him, that he was about to wake up before he even physically did, was so many things, but none of them felt bad to Dean.   
At least not right now.  
Only when he really started to feel, when he let his mate's emotions take him in and surround him, he noticed that it wasn't all that good. He felt the omega's distress, the confusion, the inner fight against waking up and opening his eyes.   
“Sammy,” he whispered, as he sat up and closed the gap between their beds. His hands were on the omega's face in an instant, cupping it. “Open your eyes,” Dean's voice was sleep-rough. “Please. Sam.”   
It felt like fighting, a desperate battle deep down the omega's soul. He felt raw and exposed and hurt. And then there was something so much darker behind all this.   
Dean felt it.   
A core, deep down in Sam's soul, a place he wasn't sure that the omega knew about. It was just a glimpse of something, Dean couldn't exactly tell what, but it was there.   
Samuel T. Harvelle's eyes moved furiously behind his lids and his heart rate sped up. The omega gasped and then took a deep inhale. Ever so slowly, small slits of hazel-green appeared and long lashes blinked in Dean's direction.   
Sam looked exhausted, which wasn’t that surprising, and slightly panicked. If it weren’t for the fact that the omega had just woken up after surgery, he would have freaked out more. If he'd been able to move at all, he would have tried to get off of the bed and somewhere darker, where he'd be able to hide.   
“It's fine, Sam,” Dean whispered soothingly. “It's fine. You're safe. I'm with you, baby boy. I'm here.” He leaned in close, shielding the younger man with his body. “Shush. Try to relax.”  
Sam blinked; a tiny bit of eyes were visible and Dean could see what the omega was feeling. He was scared, afraid. He didn’t know where he was. He had no clue what had happened, or what was about to happen to him.   
“It's safe.” Dean reached for the blanket and pulled it up. He then reached for one of Sam's hands and pushed the soft fabric into it, making him hold it. “It's safe. Don't be scared. Please. Don't be. I'm here.”   
Finally, Sam seemed to catch onto Dean's tender words, or rather the alpha's calming scent and his heart rate started to return to normal again.   
Sam reached for the oxygen mask covering his face, but the alpha stopped him. “No. Leave it,” he said and caught his hand, guiding it down to the blanket. “See? We brought the blanket with us.” Dean placed his hand back on Sam’s cheek, caressing it.   
Sam's shaky fingers nestled in the cozy fabric. His lips moved, but no sound came over them.   
“Are you hurtin'?” he asked with a frown. Even though Sam was his mate and they already had some sort of bond, it didn’t mean that he was a mind reader.   
Sam didn’t seem to understand. He only blinked, his mouth and the muscles in his throat working as if he wanted to say something.  
“Sammy,” he hummed. “You gotta tell me what's wrong.”   
The words hadn't even left his mouth, when he frowned at Sam and pursed his lips. He then looked at the bed and saw how much space was left on it and he pursed his lips some more.   
Without another word, Dean moved around the bed and set up the bed rail. He carefully pulled Sam with the sheet he was lying on towards the rail and then walked back around to climb into it on the other side. There was only a little space, but it would work, Dean figured, at least until Sam was asleep again.   
Dean took care to not jostle Sam too much or dislocate any of the wires or tubes as he climbed in next to his mate.   
He snuck one arm under Sam's neck and the other one over his middle and came so close to the omega's ear that this lips brushed over it.   
“See? It's just fine, baby boy,” he whispered. “We're both here. I'll watch over you. Nothing's gonna happen to you, okay? I'll stay awake. I'll be here.” His hot breath made Sam shudder.   
He smoothed Sam's hair back and brushed over his cheek.   
The omega turned his head towards him longingly and tried to shift, to turn on his side. He failed, though. Not just because of the pain, which tore through his stomach when he tried, but also because his limbs felt heavy and his whole body was immobile.   
“Stay,” Dean whispered into his ear. “I'm here. I'm here.”  
Sam blew out a strangled breath as he tried to move once again.   
Dean laid his flat palm over the omega's heart, stilling him. “Stay,” he breathed a gentle order into his ear.   
The alpha understood. He could feel it. He could feel what Sam longed for. Shelter. Safety. Affection. Dean.  
The alpha knew that it'd hurt if Sam tried to turn on his side. The stitches on and below his skin would tear.   
They were wounds after all. Healing wounds, but still wounds.   
Of course, he was on pain meds, but that didn’t mean that it didn’t hurt.   
Sam made a small sound, on the verge of falling asleep again. A sound that was barely audible over the beeping of the machines.   
The alpha didn’t intervene. He didn’t speak, shift, or fondle Sam. He just lay there, holding him, showing him that Dean was there.   
Only after his breathing evened out again and the beeping of the monitors slowed down did Dean kiss his temple and pat his chest gently.   
“There you go, Sammy,” he murmured and allowed himself to let his eyes drift closed.   
Eventually he fell asleep, too. 

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

When the first sunbeams of the early morning broke through the huge windows of the room, and a hand came to a rest on his shoulder, Dean's eyes flew open. Disoriented and sleep-drunk as he was, he didn’t recognize Becca at first.   
Only when her scent penetrated his nose, he caught himself slipping his hand under the pillow reaching for nothing.   
“Mornin',” she whispered.   
Dean grumbled a good morning back and yawned. He shifted a bit and groaned, his hip protesting about turning on his back.   
As if he pulled Sam out of sleep with him, the omega shifted slightly, too. A soft sound, muffled by the oxygen mask he still wore, fell from his lips.   
“Look who's wakin' up,” Becca sounded too cheerful for that damn early time of day. She took his vitals and scribbled them onto the board.   
“Sammy,” Dean whispered affectionately and brushed over his forehead. He felt the omega's rib cage expand beside him.   
“I have to inform Doctor Cavenaugh,” she spoke calmly, while she attached a saline drip to Sam's IV. “I’ll bring some ice chips with me when I come back.” Becca smiled down at the both men and patted Dean's shoulder before she left.   
The alpha sniffed and groaned and made another string of unpleased noises before he eventually managed to roll on his back and out of bed.   
He got a buttload of other disappointed noises from Sam in response.   
Dean held the omega's hand while he stretched as well as he possibly could and squeezed it gently, showing him that he was there. 

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

The next two days found Sam drifting in and out of sleep and barely recognizing his surroundings. The only things he was aware of were he wasn't at Bobby's or Dean's house and that his alpha was by his side whenever he'd wake up. Another thing was that he could sense other people, people he didn’t know and he wasn't so excited about meeting either.   
He was aware of his mind feeling dislocated from his body and that everything felt heavy and strange and that he didn’t want anything more than being back home.   
Sam felt his mate lying beside him or being close, even in his sleep. The knowledge that Dean was close to him at any time made his weird morphine induced dreams seem half as bad as they actually were.   
White gleaming eyes in the darkness of cold nights.   
He had memories he couldn't quite place to a specific time. Yeah, memories. First, his mind had told him that these had to be dreams. Simple dreams. But they weren't. They couldn't be. They all felt so real and close, as if he had lived through it. Even though he hadn't.   
There was a specific one, too. He dreamed of watching someone standing in the middle of a clearing in front of something that looked like a pyre. The cool air brushed over his nose and cheeks and made the leaves in the trees whistle softly.   
The scent of burnt flesh (yeah, burnt flesh for crying out loud, as if he truly knew what burning flesh smelled like) penetrated his nostrils.   
The figure, a man, in front of the pyre, looked over his shoulder and gazed straight at him. Sam felt himself move backwards, hiding in the safe darkness of the trees. He didn’t know why he felt like it wasn't a good idea to be caught, or seen. He also didn’t know why he thought it'd be dangerous …   
Sam had no clue about anything, and there he was, watching dark green eyes staring into his direction without actually seeing him.   
He knew he was supposed to know if he was supposed to remember if it was only a dream or if this had really happened … 

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

It's been four days since Sam had gotten admitted to hospital and he seemed to be doing a lot better now. Well, it wasn’t as if he was walking around by himself and that he was able to do a lot of things besides staying awake longer than two hours at once, but he would be getting there. Dean was sure of it.   
What bothered him more than Sam's current physical condition was that he seemed silent. Well, the omega hadn't talked a lot anyway and it wasn't surprising after surgery and almost bleeding to death, but this silence he felt … it was different than before.   
It was making Dean Winchester want to cuddle and snuggle the omega all the damn time. This silence made his fell insecure and desperate. His heart squeezed and his guts seized up whenever he looked at Sam, no matter if awake or sleeping.   
Sam lay on his back in the hospital bed, covered by a comforter and the blanket. The oxygen mask and electrodes of the CTG were gone since that morning, when doctor Cavenaugh declared that they were no longer necessary.   
Dean had shoved the bed right up against Sam's and was lying on it, the stress of the past days written all over his face and body. Scruff covered his cheeks and skin and dark shadows were under his eyes. He lay on his side, facing Sam's motionless form, but kept his eyes closed.   
He knew that Sam was awake and Sam knew that Dean was awake.   
It was shortly before noon and the nurse would come by soon to bring Sam's lunch.   
A thoughtful sigh fell from the omega's lips and he blinked.   
“Sammy,” Dean whispered, his hand squeezing the omega's gently. His eyes fluttered open and he smiled tenderly when his gaze fell onto the slightly flushed face of his mate.   
Sam looked a lot better than a day before. He had more color in his face and his breaths were regular and far away from as labored as they had been.   
He'd been so close to loosing Sam. Even when Jim and Cavenaugh had tired to assure him that everything was okay and that Sam was stable, for a moment he had been loosing him.  
“You look better.” Dean continued calmly and inched a bit closer.   
Sam sighed again and seconds later, he was turning his head towards Dean and returned his smile. Though it wasn't an honest one. Dean could tell that something was bothering him. That something wasn't right.   
“You don't,” the omega's voice was rough and scratchy. “You're lookin' tired.” There was honest concern in his words.   
The ex-hunter closed the small distance between them, so that they were mere inches apart and cupped Sam's face in his hands, feeling the smooth, warm skin against his palm and seeing the spark of adoration in the omega's soft eyes.   
“Just … I was worried.” Dean tilted his head back slightly and his Adams apple bobbed as he swallowed. “I was afraid of loosing you.”  
Sam's smile faded slowly. “You should try to get some sleep. I'm good. I'm not going to go anywhere soon.” He knew it was his fault that Dean didn’t sleep a lot those past days.   
“Nah. It's fine,” the ex-hunter hummed. “I'll sleep when I'm dead.”  
Sam turned into the gentle touch and an honest-to-god smile spread over his face when his eyes fluttered shut to feel those warm palms against his skin. Though his limbs still felt heavy and of no good use, he managed to sneak his hand out under the comforter and cover Dean's with his bigger one.   
He knew that Dean knew that something wasn't quite right. Hell, he himself didn’t know what made him so thoughtful ever since he woke up for the first time. It was just that he kind of felt empty now. As if something was missing, though he knew that there had been no other way or it'd have killed him. He knew that sooner or later he might have regretted to let it live and sacrifice himself even if it had been a part of him.   
But now? … Did it feel that way when a woman lost her baby? Was it like this? Did it hurt so bad that you thought that your heart got torn apart?   
If so … how could those women survive something like that?   
How were they supposed to carry on and continue living their lives?   
“Don't think so hard,” the alpha whispered against his soft lips after stealing a peck from him. “It makes you look older than you actually are.”  
Sam's lips twitched. “Is… is it … dead?” He needed to know. Some sick part of him needed to know if it had ever lived as soon as it was out, or if they had to kill it …   
Dean sighed and backed away a bit, looking anywhere but Sam. One day he would need to tell him. There was no way around it.   
“No.”  
He felt Sam freeze and his breath getting stuck somewhere between his lungs and throat.   
“It got away.”   
The omega had to do everything to not breathe out in relief about hearing that. Maybe it was weird, but he was relieved. “It got away” meant that it was alive and somewhere out there. It meant that there was a chance that … Hell, Sam didn’t know what exactly he was supposed to think, or how to rationalize that he was kind of happy that his baby – the parasite, how the others had called it – was breathing and somewhere out there.   
Sam nodded. He didn’t need to know more, nor did he want to give himself away. After all, Dean was a hunter and the less he said about this topic, the better it'd be. The Winchester wouldn't understand anyway…   
Dean Winchester wasn't sure if it was a good sign that his mate took it that way or not. He had no clue what Sam was thinking right now, but he smelled his scent, which had sweetened and his features had relaxed, though he still looked kind of troubled and unsure.   
Maybe it was a good sign, or it meant that the omega would break down later on.   
Either way. He had to take it as it came, he guessed.   
“Whatcha say, Sammy? Breakfast?” he said gently.   
The omega blinked his long lashes at Dean and gave him a small nod, his colorful irises sparkling in the bright sunlight.   
“Good,” Dean hummed and rolled out of bed on the other side. He sauntered around it and came to Sam's other side, where he bowed over him and slid with his arms under the omega's neck and shoulders.   
Sam could feel his mate so close. He could scent his unique odor and feel the soft stubble rubbing against his smooth cheek. “You ready?” Dean breathed into his ear.   
It sounded like a prayer to him, calming and, though a little irritating, it was in a very affectionate way.   
“Yeah.” Sam snuck his long arms around Dean's back and held onto him.   
He tried to help as well as he could when Dean lifted his torso up and pulled him up a bit, feeling when Sam tried to get his feet to work and shove himself with the motion.   
Dean exhaled warmly against the omega's ear as he laid him back into the pillows and pulled back a bit, so that he could look him in his eyes. The alpha closed the short distance between their lips and covered Sam's with his own and he let his mouth linger.   
Though it wasn't all tongue and teeth, both of them were slightly breathless afterwards. 

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Breakfast went by agonizingly slowly. Sam wasn't really hungry. He didn’t feel any appetite either, even when he saw the nicely served plate with scrambled eggs, bread, orange juice, and sweet creamy coffee.   
It took Dean several tries to get Sam to eat, but in the end the plate was empty. So were the glass and the mug. Only a small box with jello was left, which he could eat later on.   
When Dean was sure that Sam was good and would keep his breakfast down, he went to get himself something from the cafeteria on the first floor. But not without giving his omega a very nice, very long kiss and telling him that he'd be back in thirty minutes.   
Though, ten minutes into Dean's absence, Sam started to feel a bit uneasy and a slight pressure in his lower abdomen.   
Sam gazed longingly towards the bathroom door, chewing his lower lip as he thought about how to manage those few yards towards it. He then gazed up at the saline drip, which was running into his vein and then down to his right side, where the bag connected to his catheter dangled from the bedside.   
He only needed to get into an upright position and take the IV pole and the bag with him. He could use the pole as a supporter …   
Nope, using the emergency button to call the nurse didn’t even occur to him just then. Besides, who wanted to have someone else watching while sitting on the toilet? Especially Sam, who was more than weirded out by all those strange nurses and people he didn’t even know.   
What let him think about the fact, that one day he'd get released and that he'd have to leave the room and make his way to the car with Dean, all those people seeing him. SMELLING him.   
So yeah, Samuel Tristan Harvelle decided to take care of his business alone, since he wouldn't be able to hold back any longer and most of all he didn’t want Dean to go all mother-hen on him again and bring him into the bathroom.   
He'd need to get back on his feet anyway. If not now, then in the afternoon or tomorrow. At least, Doc. Cavenaugh had told him that. Well, he may have mentioned, too, that he wasn't supposed to try anything on his own. 

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Dean stood in the cafeteria in a line of about twenty people, who were getting breakfast. If you could call sandwiches, donuts and muffins a breakfast even. He grumbled something under his breath and gazed at the big clock on the white wall.   
This would take half a century until he'd be through and even when he'd take the tray with him into Sam's room, it'd cost him more than thirty minutes to get back to Sam.   
He grumbled and scrunched his nose up in discomfort.   
Dean Winchester hated this crap. It might be faster if he went and got himself something from the diner he had seen across the street from the hospital, out of Sam's window. He decided the cafeteria was a hopeless mission and put the tray down, leaving his place in the line. 

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Sam had managed to get the urine bag loose and held it in his left hand, while he held onto the pole with his right one in an iron grip.   
Tiny pearls of sweat were already forming on his skin when he slid from the bed and landed tentatively on his huge feet, willing them to obey.   
A surprised smile formed on the omega's lips when he felt the cool floor against his soles. It felt weird, but on the other hand good, to feel his weight again, being able to stand there.  
Well, half the way into his mission, Samuel Harvelle wasn't so sure anymore if this had been a very good idea. The pressing matter of why he had gotten up in the first place increased and he already started to feel shaky and not so well.   
Maybe he should've called a nurse to help him. Or he should've tried to wait for Dean to come back. 

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

If someone thought that the cafeteria was bad, this diner seemed to be even lousier. They needed about fifteen minutes to make two coffees and another twenty minutes to wrap up two freaking donuts and three fucking muffins.   
The Winchester decided that waiting for scrambled eggs, bacon and maybe some toast would last at least another half an hour. That was way too long. He'd call Bobby later on and ask if he'd get him something for lunch, so he wouldn't have to leave Sam. Again.  
Dean grabbed the bags from the counter and the two cups of coffee. One smaller, which was his and one bigger which was supposed to be Sam's, since he loved this sweet vanilla stuff with extra sugar and loads of milk.   
The omega would need the extra calories to get back on his feet.   
Dean made it back across the street, into the hospital, and up to the fifth floor in no time, panting and limping like he was an asthmatic patient himself. Only when he reached the closed door to his omega's room he stopped and took a couple of deep breaths, smiling apologetically at the passing nurses and visitors as they gave him curious looks.   
The alpha looked all roughed up with three-day-old scruff covering his face and mussed clothes. Hell, he probably reeked since he hadn't showered since the first morning Sam had been admitted and had gotten settled.   
He had actually only noticed just now and planned on taking a shower tonight and maybe get rid of his beard and a get fresh set of clothes.   
One more thing he had to ask Bobby for. Or maybe Ellen if she still was around.   
Another deep breath and his elbow pushed the door handle down, nudging the door open with his shoulder. Once inside, he took two steps towards the bed and stopped dead at the third one as he realized that the sheets were all messed up and Sam gone.   
His eyes widened and he nearly dropped the bag and coffee, wouldn't it have been for his reflexes to tighten their hold on the items he held when they started to slip.   
“Sam?” he asked into the empty room and strode over to the bedside table, where he put the cups and bags and looked around the room.   
The pole was gone.  
He made himself calm down, and forced himself to think properly. He thought that Sam might have been taken for an ultra sound or some other test. Then again, if he had, Cavenaugh would have told them beforehand and wouldn't have just taken Sam.   
Besides, Cavenaugh knew about Sam's backstory and wouldn't order someone to make him leave the room.   
After all Sam was Sam and Sam wouldn't deal well with a bunch of strangers prodding and surrounding him.   
“Sammy?” he asked once again.   
There was no sound except for the passing people and the muffled chatter of nurses from the corridor. As if on instinct, his gaze flew towards the bathroom door. Nope, it wasn't instinct. It was more than that. Different.   
It was like something was calling out to him. No. Not something. Someone.   
Sam. 

… to be continued


	19. The Thing With Mates

Fields Of Jasmine  
Chapter 19 ~ The Thing With Mates

Bursting through the bathroom door, Dean Winchester came to a halt right in the doorway. His gaze landing on the only breathing being beside himself in the small room, sitting slumped over on the toilet bowl, head in hands.   
“Sammy?” Dean asked, eyeing the pitiful looking figure. The light blue gown had slid apart at his back, where it was only held together by two thin strings of fabric around his neck. The IV pole stood beside him and the bag with sunny-yellow liquid beside his feet.   
Dean was by Sam’s side in one large stride and kneeled down before him. He pushed Sam's hands away and cupped the omega's face in his.   
“What the hell are you even thinkin'?” Dean spat at him in a mixture of worry and anger. Sam wasn't supposed to get up all by himself. “Did you get here all by yourself?” Of course he had … what a question. Dean hadn't been there and he surely wouldn't call anyone else to help him with THAT. Hell, he wasn't even sure if Sam would tell him.  Sam looked a bit dazed and utterly exhausted, his skin clammy and warm beneath the thin layer of sweat.   
He swallowed his anger down and pressed his lips into a tight line, biting back another remark of how stupid Sam was.   
He could've fallen.   
He could've hurt himself.  
The alpha blew out a long slow breath and closed his eyes for a moment, counting to ten. When he opened them again, his emotions had calmed down a bit and he felt himself steady enough to not bark or yell at the omega.   
“I'm gonna unplug your I.V,” he said, looking deep into those huge hazel-green eyes.   
Sam gave him a shaky nod.   
His mate did as he had said and then removed the whole I.V. since he didn't have a stopper to close it. He helped Sam get cleaned up, since he hadn't been able to do so himself and scooped him up in his arms afterwards.   
Slowly but surely, and taking care to not dislodge the catheter, Dean brought him back into the room and laid him on the bed. Sam's gown rode up his smooth looking thighs and hips and Dean did everything possible in his mind to not look THERE.   
The omega definitely had one hell of a manhood. Though … there were no balls. It kinda looked weird that way, Dean had to admit, and he was glad that the omega was too out of it to notice his stare.   
Dean cleared his throat and pulled the sheets back up over Sam's body after hanging the urine-bag back in its place and pushed the nurse's button. He snuck his arm under Sam's shoulders and adjusted his limp body so that he looked more comfortable.   
A moment later, the door to the room opened and Becca appeared with a questioning gaze. “Yeah?” she asked.  
“Sam was on the toilet. We accidentally ripped the I.V. out,” he explained, not feeling the need to mention that the omega had thought he could go there all by himself.   
“No problem,” she said and smiled softly at him, but her face darkened when her gaze landed on the omega. “Should I get Doctor Cavenaugh?”  
Dean huffed out a breath. He wasn't sure himself. “Yeah. Guess that's a good idea.” What else was he supposed to say? After all, they were in a hospital with real doctors and nurses, so why not have an extra careful watch over Sam and his health.   
Sam barely held onto consciousness. His eyelids felt heavy and he felt the strong pull of sleep at his mind as soon as he laid flat on the bed, covered by the sheets.   
Dean hovered over him, impossibly close. The alpha's lips where moving, but all Sam was able to understand where slurred words and all he saw where blurry green eyes, which wouldn't come into focus.   
“You know what they said. You're not supposed to get up all by yourself. What if you've fallen? What if you've gotten hurt?” Dean hissed angrily. “That's not a game.” He knew that Sam knew that it wasn't a game, but he needed his mate to understand that there was no way that he'd allow him to be that reckless with himself. Not after he had barely survived that parasite.   
Even when he didn't understand what his alpha was saying, Sam could smell his anger and he heard by the sound of his voice that he wasn't happy.   
Well, Sam wasn't happy too.   
Dean dropped his head and exhaled audibly. The omega didn't understand. He was too out of it. Too exhausted. Too miserable. Too high on pain-meds.   
Dean opened his mouth to add something, but got cut off by the door swinging open and Doctor Cavenaugh entering.   
“What's the matter?” he asked instantly, still a couple of feet away from the bed.   
Dean turned towards him, while Sam didn't even seem to notice. “Sam had to go … you know...” Dean chuckled nervously. “I got him back into bed, but he started to sweat and pass out on me...”  
Cavenaugh was right beside the bed now and checked Sam's pupils and pulse. “Nothing to worry about, though. You might start with something easier the next time you wanna get up, kid,” he spoke to the youngest among them. “Becca's gonna get you a wheelchair and … don't overdo yourself.” Now he looked straight at Dean, emphasizing his words with a stern glare. “No wandering around too far.”  
Dean gave him an understanding nod. “I'll take care of it.” So yeah, he might need to have Ellen or Bobby to be here when he'd go and get a shower later on, making sure that his omega wouldn't get any wrong ideas all over again.   
The doctor set up a new I.V. and Becca brought another saline drip with pain-meds. Fifteen minutes later, Sam was out for the count and Dean took the smaller cup of coffee and the bag with the doughnuts and crawled onto his half of the bed, where he ate breakfast and sighed every now and then, thinking about what could've possibly convinced Sam to do that.   
Then again … why did it matter?   
Everyone in the right mind wouldn't want to have someone watching. Especially not if you were so very different from the rest. It was, in fact, legit.   
When he was done and had thrown out the empty cup and greasy papers, he lay down contentedly and toed off his boots and kicked them off the bed. The ex-hunter then hummed, satisfied and sated, and inched closer to Sam's side. Once lying shoulder to shoulder, he intertwined his fingers with Sam's and let his eyes flutter shut.   
He couldn't believe how fulfilling it felt to be that close to Sam, to have him right there beside him, being able to touch him … It felt like heaven on earth and so much better …   
This was all he'd ever need. Right there beside him. His whole world was here in this room with him. 

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Dean Winchester had fallen asleep soon after lying down and woke up again an hour later to a soft knock on the door. He stirred and sniffed and rubbed with his free hand over his face.   
“Yeah?” he croaked out hoarsely and glanced at Sam.   
The omega was still out cold, not stirring a bit.   
The door opened, and Bobby came in, ball cap and plastic-bags in his hands. The grizzled man kicked the door closed with his foot and made a gruff noise.   
Dean turned to his side and cocked his head back to get a better look at the old man.   
Bobby squinted back at him through bushy eyebrows and put the bags on the already overfilled nightstand.   
“Sam's doing better-” Dean spoke up before the older man could even think about asking. “He was up already.”   
Bobby huffed out a breath. “Heard 'bout that. Didn't go very well, huh?” He gestured towards the sleeping omega.   
The ex hunter chuckled and shook his head. “Nah. You mind if I'm gonna have a shower as long as you're here?”  
Bobby eyed his younger friend and pursed his lips. “'Bout time you jump the shower, boy. You look awful … and you stink.”  
Dean squinted at him and then sniffed at himself. Well, the old man may was right. He kind of stunk … and he sure didn't look very well. Though, since Sam didn't seem to care those past days, why should he?  
Bobby gestured towards the bags. “Clothes. Hope they'll fit.”   
Dean gave him a thankful nod and then forced himself to get into motion and get himself into the bath of his omega's room. Inside the plastic bag Bobby had brought with him wasn’t just clothes. There was a razor and shower gel, and a toothbrush and paste, so he wouldn't have to use the scratchy ones from the hospital.   
With a sigh, he pulled the curtain aside and eyed the big stall. Dean loved his bathtub and the small shower he had in the cabin, but hell, it'd feel amazing to have just that tiny more bit space while showering and he wouldn't bump his elbows on the tiles, or have to bow down, to get his hair soaked.   
With a content smile, he got undressed and turned the shower on. 

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

The next day wasn't very different from the past ones. The only change was that Becca had told Sam that he was allowed to take a shower and that the omega seemed pretty determined to do just that. Even when he looked kind of unsure on how he was supposed to do that. At least that seemed to be his very second thought after the cheerful news the nurse had brought them.   
She told him and Dean to call for her, when Sam was ready and that she'd help him. Though, Dean – ever the alpha – instantly told her that it wouldn't be necessary and that he'd help Sam in every way he'd need it, without even asking the omega if it was okay that he'd help him, and that he'd see him naked. He spoke without even looking at Sam for permission.   
Though, when Becca was gone, and the two of them were alone again and Dean looked over at Sam, who had a bit more color in his face and whose eyes seemed to be alive just that tiny bit more than the day before, he noticed that his overprotective behavior might not be the best thing to act on.   
“Sam...” he sighed. “I can get her back, okay? If you wanna have her helping you, it's fine with me.” His words sounded reproachful.   
The omega chewed on his bottom lip and swallowed thickly. He looked away shyly and bit his bottom lip. When he cast his big eyes back up at Dean, his lips parted slightly – like a fucking porn star about to say something filthy. But he didn't, actually. It was just the way Sam was. Looking all vulnerable and innocent and so damn young and … like Sam.   
Dean Winchester felt kind of dirty to think about the omega this way.   
Especially now. The kid just had surgery. He was still healing. And they sure as hell hadn't shared THAT kind of intimate before, which would rationalize thoughts like that.   
Though, Dean Winchester couldn't possibly not feel the anticipation of helping Sam out and maybe even helping him wash. Not that this was sexy in any way. Hell no. Not that someone would get second thoughts about what the Winchester was thinking.   
His first priority was to help Sam feel better with a shower and getting cleaned up.   
“You're my mate, right?” Sam's voice was soft and he sounded so damn insecure, as if someone was trying to lure him into the lion's den by talking him into it as if it was no biggie at all.   
Dean chuckled nervously. Of course Sam felt what he felt. It was going both ways. While the alpha scented the omega's insecurity and nervousness and shame, the omega had to smell the mix of love, possessiveness, and horniness in his scent.   
“I won't do anything. Promise.” Dean could read in between the lines. Though they had known each other for quite some time now and though they had made out plenty, Sam still seemed shy and afraid at times, as if Dean was just waiting for a moment to jump him.   
He couldn't blame him for that either.   
“I won't even look,” Dean added after a long moment of silence with a cocky grin. “Not if you don't want me to.” He would've bit his tongue off. Even when it was meant as a joke, he couldn't be sure if Sam would understand it as such.   
Not now at least.   
Sam eyed him curiously. His scent shifted and something bitter mixed into the sweetness of jasmine and earthy moss.   
The alpha's cocky grin faltered and his features turned serious. This wasn't what he had wanted. He had wanted to make Sam smile, what had – in fact – been way easier before all of this had happened. Before they had known.   
Dean wanted for Sam to not be that sad and broody, since he had woken up.   
“Look. I'm sorry, Sammy,” he said calmly and reached out to cup the omega's cheek. “I … I didn't mean it that way, okay?” He wanted Sam to understand. He needed him to understand.   
Sam's lips quirked into a small smile. “I know,” he breathed and leaned into the gentle touch.   
“Good,” he said, though the both of them knew that the both of them knew that it wasn't like that. Not that easy …   
“You okay with me helping you? Or should I get Becca?” he asked again, this time completely serious and not putting any emotion into his words. He was completely honest about it and he wanted Sam to be honest too.   
Sam's hazel-green circles locked with Dean's forest-green ones.   
“Sammy?” he asked when he didn't get an answer.   
“It's okay if it's you,” Sam whispered, laying all the trust he could muster into his voice when he spoke.   
Dean wouldn't give him time to let him have second thoughts. “Okay. So … how do you want to do this?” This time he let Sam think and gave him space to let him sort this out.  
After a very long while, Sam spoke, his cheeks tainted a slight pink. “I'd … Pee first?” He peeked up under bangs of dark hair.   
“Sure.” The most charming smile the world had ever seen on a Winchester's face lit up the whole room, shining deep into Sam's soul and heart. Dean didn't jump on the train of shyness and embarrassment of Sam's. Instead he decided to handle those topics like they weren't anything embarrassing or special at all.   
Dean gave Sam time to sit up by himself, but was at his side as soon as he rose to his feet and got his arm around his waist to steady him. Sam's knees felt wobbly and his legs felt as if they weren't able to carry his weight, but he had his alpha guiding him, holding him.   
Together, they managed to get into the bathroom, where Dean let him have his privacy while peeing. When Sam called, he went back in and squatted down before him.   
“Lets get the show on the road, huh?” He still smiled charmingly.   
Sam could do nothing but nod and give him a shy smile back, casting his look down to hide his face, and especially the scar.   
Dean kept his voice soft and his touches gentle. “I'll help you, 'kay?” He asked, but was already reaching around to untie the knot in Sam's hospital gown. When Sam didn't respond and only shuddered at the feather-light brush of knuckles against the bare skin of his neck, Dean decided to get the man's thoughts off of whatever he was thinking about right now. “Bobby brought clothes for ya'. Comfortable ones.” He brushed the fabric down Sam's shoulders and let go of it.   
The thin gown slid down the younger man's bicep and pooled around his elbows. Sam kept his gaze down, trying to steady his thumping heart and shaking hands.   
“If you're askin' me, Ellen went to get them for ya',” he continued, as he took Sam's hand into his and removed the gown completely. The alpha let it drop to the floor beside the toilet. “I bet she got colors matchin' your eyes and skin tone.” Dean chuckled. He was starting to feel a bit nervous, as if Sam's insecurity was affecting him too now.   
The omega didn't say a word. He only ducked his head, his hands shaking even more now that he was truly naked and nothing stayed uncovered from Dean's eyes.   
He knew that the alpha must've seen him like this before, at least once, when they prepared him for surgery. He could vaguely remember that Dean had laid him out on some hard surface and had promised him that it'd be alright and that he undressed him … that it was cold and despite that he had felt hot.   
“You ready?”   
Sam hesitated, but nodded. Sure he was ready to take a shower, but he wasn't ready to show himself – consciously – to Dean, with all his … weirdness.   
“You're a bit skinny,” Dean poked with his finger into Sam's ribs, which were clearly visible under a layer of skin. “But other than that … you're right up my alley.” Of course this didn't help ease the mood either. The alpha cleared his throat and sighed. He dropped his head and looked up again, then brushed thick strands of hair out of the omega's face and tugged it behind his ear. Right there, where his scar should've stayed hidden.   
“You … you don't have to be embarrassed, Sunshine. You know that, right?” the alpha's words edged on concern. “You've all the right things in all the right places.” He smiled broadly at him. “It's just a bit too little, you know? We need to get you proper meals and shit. A whole lot of rest.”  
“It's not over, is it?” Sam asked hoarsely and looked up at the ex-hunter.   
Dean gave him a reassuring smile. “For you it is, okay? You shouldn't think about that anymore. You're out of it and that's a good thing. Now you've had time to recover and rest and we'll help you … okay? The things that happened … that's over.”  
Sam sucked on his lower lip. He didn't believe Dean. For the hunters, it wouldn't be over until they found the baby and maybe even killed it and all the others that were born that way. Including the demon-girl.   
There was a brush of cool air when Dean stood up and walked over to the shower to turn the water on.   
He returned to his mate's side and helped him to his feet. He only hesitantly let go of him so he could enter the stall by himself. He watched Sam curiously, not sure if he'd be able to stay in there on his own.   
Sam didn't pull the shower curtain closed and Dean didn't intend to do it for him. He didn’t look in Sam’s direction much at all.   
He only stole glances at the showering younger male, making sure that he was still standing and doing okay. Well, at least as okay as possible.   
When the water turned off, Dean went for the towels. He dropped one of them onto the floor and held the second one out for Sam. When it was taken from his hands, Dean turned to face away and give Sam his privacy, relying on an indication from Sam; he'd call out if he'd need something. The ex-hunter wouldn't leave the room, though, just in case.   
Sam braced himself against the tiles until he thought to have a safer stance and started to dry himself off. It didn't last long, though. The moist, warm air, the stress of having to stay upright, and his hurting lower abdomen were taking their toll on him.   
Dark spots started to dance before his vision and darkness started to creep in from the corners of his sight. He reached out for the sink and held onto it, breathing hard.  
Of course that wasn't lost on his mate. “Sammy.”  
“Dean? … I think … some help? Please?” he whispered breathlessly, trying to hold onto consciousness as long as humanly possible.   
The omega didn't have to ask twice. Dean was in front of him, holding him up. He guided him over to the toilet and let him sit down on it and took over the task of getting Sam's body dry. Ever so carefully, he rubbed over the omega's hair as if he'd hurt him if he'd go too rough.   
They didn't say a single word all the while, nor did they look each other in the eyes until Sam was dressed.   
When the navy-green boxers and dark sweats were on those long legs, he made the omega stand up and hold onto his shoulders. Dean then dragged the boxers up, taking exquisite care to get everything inside on the front. His knuckles brushed over smooth, warm skin and firm muscles at Sam's back. The omega's skin felt incredibly smooth and soft. When he reached down again for the sweats, his palms slid down the outsides of Sam's thighs and calves.   
Oh god, how good it would be to feel his skin for a little while longer. How it would feel to have Sam mostly naked and soft beside him, being able to touch …  
Dean had to stop himself right there again. Sam shivered as calloused palms traveled down his sides. He bit his lower lip and his grip on Dean's shoulders tightened a bit. It felt good to be touched like that by the alpha, the heat of his palms and the strength hidden behind all this tenderness.   
He'd love to have the alpha touch him more like that. It made his skin crawl and tickle.   
It felt like Dean was made for him, as if the man was all he needed to feel better …   
Dean then walked him out of the bathroom. They barely had made it across the doorway when Sam started to lean heavily against his mate's side and grip onto the back of his shirt, as his knees started to get even wobblier.   
It were only a few more feet towards the bed, but Sam's legs seemed ready to give up on him at any moment. So Dean simply scooped him up in his arms, bridal style, and carried him over to the bed, where he laid him down.   
The younger man didn't protest, exhausted from the small tasks he had done in the bathroom and ready to take another nap.   
If it wasn't for Dean and his need to make Sam eat, he might have even fallen asleep. But the ex-hunter was there and he wouldn't leave the omega be until he'd had a second breakfast.   
“What do we got today?” Sam asked sleepily.   
Dean wiggled with his eyebrows and grabbed the small paper bag from the nightstand and handed it to Sam. “Muffins. Double chocolate chip and caramel,” he informed him.   
The omega chuckled and sniffed. “Yeah?”  
“Yeah, baby boy.” He waited for Sam to open the bag and look inside. “One for me. One for you.”  
Sam's smile widened a bit. “Nice.”  
“Nice?” Dean's voice high-pitched. “Nice? I'm freaking awesome, kiddo. I got Bobby to get us those from the bakery across town.” Then he chuckled and shook his head. He then waved with his hand towards the bag, gesturing towards Sam to give him one too.   
Sam tugged the bag closer. “Am I supposed to share with you?” he asked jokingly, his eyes glinting. Actually, he was too tired for a pillow fight over muffins with Dean, but he sure could try to tease.   
“You darin' me?” Dean wiggled his eyebrows.   
The omega blew out a soft breath and put the bag between the both of them after pulling his muffin one out. “Nah.” He leaned back against the propped up pillow and sighed heavily.   
“You eat first,” Dean said. “Then we'll talk about you having a nap.” He smiled.   
“Deal,” Sam grinned at him.   
“Sealed with a kiss?” The alpha asked mischievously.   
Sam blushed. Again.  
Dean took that as a yes and sat down beside his mate. He then sealed his lips over Sam's and pulled him into a lingering, loving kiss. There wasn't a lot of tongue, but hell, Sam tasted divine … Even like this. Barely licking into the other man's mouth … it tasted like so much more.   
For both of them.

…. to be continued


	20. Traveling Back Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go with another extra-long chapter for all of you :)  
> Keep commenting and feed the muse if you want :)
> 
> bts: I'm editing the past chapters, so it'll be easier to read ;) let me know if it's better!

Fields Of Jasmine  
Chapter 20 ~ Traveling Back Home

Another couple of days later, when Sam was halfway steady on his feet and was capable of spending most of the day awake, Doctor Cavenaugh told him and Dean that the omega was ready to leave the hospital on Friday.  
That was just two days.  
  
While Sam seemed utterly relieved about that development, Dean wasn’t. He felt uneasy about taking Sam for a three-hour drive back home, where they couldn't provide the safety and medical attention he might still need.  
Sure, it had been close to a week that Sam had gone through surgery. And yes, he seemed to be doing a whole lot better and all. But was it really safe for him to go home?  
  
What if something happened?  
What if the journey back to the Salvage would make Sam feel worse again?  
What if his omega got some sort of infection or something?  
Dean didn't like hospitals too much, himself. Hell, he hated them. But this one wasn't too bad and if it meant that Sam would go home all good and healthy, he'd gladly spend some more time around here, even when he felt like a caged animal.  
This was about Sam. HIS Sam.  
There was no way he'd take any risks.  
“You sure about that?” Dean Winchester asked, eyeing Doctor Cavenaugh curiously.  
  
The doctor seemed very sure that Sam was ready to leave and was a bit taken aback by the ex-hunter's question. His curious expression softened after a moment of looking into concerned big green eyes.  
He chuckled.  
“Yes, Dean. I'm sure. He's still sore, but he definitely ready to leave. I don't see any reason to not release him on Friday. The wound looks just fine. It's healing perfectly well and he's up and walking.” He tried to reassure the alpha with that sort of warm smile he had given him when he first told Dean that Sam would be fine. So why didn't Dean believe him? After all he'd been right. “Though … you will have to keep an eye on him and make sure that he doesn't overdo himself.”  
  
The ex-hunter nodded. “Of course.” He was determined to follow any doctor orders. Very strictly.  
“But you also have to let him do some things by himself, too,” Cavenaugh pointed out.  
The doctor gazed through the gap of the door and pursed his lips, watching Sam eat his breakfast. “He's a bit underweight … I'll order Becca to get him two more shots with vitamins and trace elements. One for today and one for tomorrow and then he's off the saline drips.” He gave Dean some more orders of what he was supposed to look out for and told him that he'd give him a list with things that would be handy and some that were necessary on Friday.  
Dean nodded and noted everything in his mind.  
  
Cavenaugh patted the man's shoulder and smiled. “He'll come around. Feed him properly and get as much protein into him as possible. He'll recover faster then. Though, I'm not lying when I tell you that it may take a while longer since he's … practically malnourished.”  
Dean glanced inside the room and eyed his mate for another long moment, biting the insides of his lips nervously. The doctor was right. Sam was malnourished and still thin. Even though he's been with Dean and Bobby for quite some time now.  
  
Maybe he'd been a bit sloppy with his meals, too. When Sam had slept, he'd let him sleep and skip a meal or two … Maybe that wasn't such a good thing. Here in hospital, the omega got woken up when they brought food. They always pestered him about eating, Dean realized only now.  
With that realization, a weird feeling started to grow deep inside Dean's stomach, forming a dark pit. It was basically his fault that Sam hadn't gained more weight yet. It truly was.  
He let him sleep in and then they'd skip breakfast or lunch and truth be told, Dean had been happy to see Sam eat the little he had eaten so far. Because he had figured it was already more than it had been before.  
But how could he truly know?  
  
“He needs to go home. He doesn't seem to be very comfortable here with all those people around, coming and going in his room as they please. Given his history …” The doctor sighed again, “You'll take good care of him. I know that.”  
And that was all the doctor had to say before leaving him standing at the door to Sam's room. 

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

It was Friday morning, just shy of nine.  
Bobby and Ellen waited in the car at the back entrance of the hospital in a borrowed car.  
Dean was packing up their last belongings while Sam signed the papers Doctor Cavenaugh had brought with him. He was explaining the important things to Sam, which he had talked about with Dean beforehand.  
Jim's friend also told him that he had to eat more regularly; like in hospital and that he was supposed to look out for himself, too. That – if he wanted to make the alpha happy – he needed to eat properly, or else they'd be seeing each other again very soon.  
  
This made alarm bells go off inside Sam's head, judging by the way his eyes widened and his face scrunched up in disgust.  
Dean blushed at the mention of his name and the fact that Sam seemed to not want him to worry.  
The ex-hunter felt for the folded piece of paper in his jeans pocket once more to make sure he got it.  
Sam had been silent ever since he woken up. The young man looked good. Well, at least as good as he could look. The tone of his skin still seemed a bit off and his movements were still slow, but the doctor had assured Dean that it'd go by and that his mate would be back to himself within a couple of weeks.  
Sam shook the doctor's hand and gave him a friendly smile as they said their goodbyes to each other.  
  
The alpha moved over beside Sam, duffel bag slung over his left shoulder where it wouldn't be in the way. He gestured to the wheelchair right beside the bed.  
Sam gave him a look.  
“Hospital policy,” Dean cocked an eyebrow. For once he was glad about the existence of it.  
The omega stood up, slightly bowed and wincing and turned to sit into the wheelchair.  
“That's my boy,” he praised the man jokingly and got behind it.  
Carefully, he pushed the wheelchair in front of him. Dean noticed Sam flinching away from sounds that were completely normal for a hospital like this. Though, even worse was the presence of other people around them as it looked like. Sam seemed to try to fold himself up into himself.  
  
It was horrible. All those people, walking by, maybe even brushing against the wheelchair or Sam himself. The omega recoiled even more at that.  
He wasn't used to this; so many people – strangers – in one place, all around him. Chattering and noises and the foreign place in general. It made his skin crawl and his chest tight. It was making it hard to breathe, as if all those people were sucking up the oxygen around him.  
  
Suddenly, there was a heavy hand on his shoulder and a thump against his neck, rubbing circles into his skin. It was unbelievable how soothing it was to have Dean so close, touching him.  
The alpha sped up and was relieved when they finally arrived at the elevator.  
There was a mother with her teen son standing there, too. Both of them gave his mate curious and questioning gazes.  
Dean noticed instantly – not just by her scent, but also by the way they were behaving – that she and the boy had to be alphas. He saw the boy stare down at Sam, drilling holes into the young man who he called his.  
  
The ex-hunter cleared his throat and moved a bit to the side, so that he was kind of standing between the boy and Sam, trying to block his view. But that little bastard just moved with it and kept on staring at HIS mate.  
Dean cleared his throat, a bit louder than necessary this time. He kept staring at the boy, who had a leg in a cast and a cane in one of his hands.  
The mother looked over at him, then down at Sam and back up at him with a softer expression on her face. Her son did not get it – obviously. She nudged the teen in the side, but the boy ignored it and kept staring.  
  
Though, he couldn't really blame the boy either. He probably had not seen an omega so far in his life.  
Even though the boy was young, he should have at least been able to scent the omega's fear and distress by now, and not just his luring scent. Hell, Sam's scent would permeate the whole damn floor if the elevator didn’t come soon, a scent that would irritate every alpha … Would draw each one of them closer.  
Not that they would do anything to Sam. No way.  
Dean knew that. It was more about the fear they'd scent, which would wake every common alpha's instincts. It'd tell them to go and find its source and help – if there was something they could help with.  
  
Dean just didn't want them to come and gaze at Sam, even when it was well meant. It would make the omega feel crowded and maybe freak out. Especially when he wasn't used to so many people around. Particularly, alphas … Who still seemed to make Sam even more afraid …  
“He's an omega,” the teen murmured curiously.  
“Ben,” the mother hissed and nudged her son.  
“I...” The teen swallowed thickly, his hand slowly moving up as if to reach for Sam. It looked like Indiana Jones reaching for the first crystal skull…  
Like Lara Croft reaching out for Pandora's box …  
His face filled with a whole lot of awe and curiosity. And wonder.  
He was still too far away to physically touch him, though. His gaze flickered up at Dean's narrowed eyes. The boy looked confused all of a sudden.  
Sam blinked up through his long bangs, but kept his head down, avoiding direct contact.  
  
“Why is he scared?” the boy asked eventually, a bit confused. “He's … he's … I've never smelled something like that … What's wrong with him?”  
“Ben,” she said again, tugging at his sleeve. “Don't make me make you take the stairs,” she warned.  
“He's not used to being bothered by alphas, boy,” Dean said bluntly. His gaze flickered towards the mother and back at the teen. “Staring at him doesn't make things better. So you either get the hint now and stare at your shoelaces, or I'll make you take the stairs.” His stare was promising bloody murder.  
This time the kid got it and tore his gaze away from both of them and stared down at his shoes and neon-yellow laces.  
  
Dean made an approving sound and gave the boy's mother a nod.  
Then, finally, a ping was heard and the elevator's doors moved apart.  
The mother let the both of them take the elevator and held her son back when he intended to follow. Dean gave her a thankful nod and pushed the button to the basement.  
When the door closed, the alpha took a deep inhale and some of the tension started to fade from him. “We'll be out of here in no time, Sammy,” he murmured softly. “Don't you worry.”  
  
Sam didn't respond. This wasn't his world. Too many people. Too many variables he couldn't calculate.  
This wasn't his world and he sure as hell couldn't imagine that it would ever be.  
Two minutes later they arrived in the basement, where Dean pushed the wheelchair through a long corridor and a wide double door, above which “Exit” was written.  
  
Once outside, Sam took a deep inhale of fresh cool air and let his eyes flutter shut. Finally getting out of those walls and different smells. The tightness in his chest eased away when he saw Bobby and Ellen in a big Ford Combi, whose engine was running.  
“There we go, kiddo. Time to go home,” Dean smiled and adjusted the duffel bag that hung from his shoulder. He moved around the wheelchair and took Sam's arm to help him stand up.  
  
“Hop in, boys,” Ellen called through the open window and gestured towards the back.  
First, Dean helped the omega into the backseat and then hurried to stash the bag in the trunk, before he went to the other side and slipped in behind Bobby.  
Sam closed the distance between them and leaned against Dean’s shoulder as soon as he had the door on his side closed.  
“There we go,” Dean purred into his omega's ear and snuck an arm around his shoulders to tug him closer. He then wrestled the blanket out from underneath his butt – which was some serious effort – and tugged it over Sam's legs and lap.  
  
Sam shivered. He put his hands under the blanket and tilted his head to the side to rest it against his alpha's shoulder.  
Bobby drove slowly, really slowly, avoiding each pothole if possible and when the traffic allowed it.  
An hour into the drive, Sam had the blanket up to his chin and was shifting every now and then.  
The ex-hunter shifted, too, trying to make Sam more comfortable and let him rest against his chest, not caring that the angle in which he sat was troubling his hip and knee.  
Ellen glanced over her shoulder at the both from time to time, sharing glances with the young alpha holding his omega, communicating without using words.  
  
They made it another half an hour before Ellen reached over and laid a hand on Bobby's thigh, telling him that it was time for a break.  
They took the next exit. Bobby pulled up in front of a dinner and parked the car right in front of the entrance. He shut the engine off.  
“Break,” Bobby murmured and unfastened his seat belt.  
Ellen turned around to look at Dean. “What do you guys think about getting out of the car to stretch?”  
Dean gave her a nod and craned his head to the side to look down at Sam's ridiculously soft mop of hair.  
“Sammy,” he whispered and nudged Sam gently.  
The omega stirred and tilted his head back, catching Dean's gaze. He made a small sound.  
“Wanna get outside for a bit?” he asked with a soft smile.  
  
Sam nodded.  
  
They all left the car. Dean helped Sam to get out and up on his wobbly feet. The omega made a few small steps, holding himself bowed over to take the strain from his surgical wound. Dean held him close with one arm around his waist and the other one holding the blanket around his shoulders while Sam had one arm around Dean's shoulder to hold onto him.  
“Is this okay?” Dean asked concerned.  
Sam only nodded, concentrating on walking.  
  
“You hurting?” he asked when they reached the other side of the parking lot. If it weren’t for Sam's long legs, he'd be able to lie down in the back …  
Sam shook his head. Though, in the very moment Dean knew that the omega was lying. And Sam knew that Dean knew that he was lying.  
“You know you can have something if it gets too bad, baby boy?”  
  
Sam nodded again.  
“We'll get some snacks!” Ellen called out.  
Sam blew out a shuddering breath as he tried to straighten up to his full height. It wasn't a good idea and he had to duck back down and wrap an arm around his stomach.  
  
“Okay.” Dean's breath rose in a cloud of white steam towards the sky. “We're goin' back to the car.”  
Sam let himself be led back and folded into the backseat, where Dean sat down beside him.  
  
When Ellen and Bobby came back, they had a bag full of cashews, Twinkies, M&Ms and other junk food, enough to last two weeks– at least.  
They were back on the road before Sam could possibly process what was happening. Though not for long. He heard the rustling of plastic and papers and then – out of nowhere – an Oh Henry was held up in front of his face.  
“Nah,” he said and turned his head to the side. Sure, the chocolate bar looked inviting and pretty damn yummy, but then again, when he thought about it properly, he feared that he'd get sick to his stomach.  
  
“Nope. C'mon. You know how it goes.” Stay hard, Dean told himself, Make him eat. He checked his watch. Yep, it was about time to get him a snack.  
Sam wanted to argue, but then he didn't. Looking into these green deep, hopeful eyes, the way Dean looked at him, all freckles and dimples and the soft curve of his lips as he smiled.  
  
The omega had to smile back. Lured into taking the chocolate by his alpha's strong scent and lips and … everything. Feeling the need, the joy that bloomed in the ex-hunter's heart when he took the bar from him, and Sam eventually sunk his teeth into the soft sweetness.  
Sam hummed as the mixture of chocolate and caramel melted in his mouth. Damn it. If he got sick afterwards he didn't care. At least not right now. 

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Sam had fallen asleep and was slumbering softly since Dean had made him take one of his pills for the pain.  
And now that they were about to pull up before Bobby's house, Dean felt guilty to have to wake Sam up after just falling asleep an hour ago. Then again … He could lie back down once they were back in the cabin, right?  
  
Back in the cabin, there was Garth, wearing a weirdly colorful apron around his narrow hips.  
It was comfortably warm inside and smelling like roast beef and mashed sweet potatoes. The cabin looked as if they hadn't been gone for a single day.  
Dean and Sam greeted the scrawny alpha with a short nod.  
  
“Welcome home!” Garth said cheerily as he came out of the kitchen holding a spoon in his left hand, grinning from ear to ear. “Bed's ready too. Didn't know if you...” he started to stumble over his own words, “both … I mean, Sam's. And yours. Because … you know … Mates and … I just thought.”  
“It's fine, Garth,” Dean murmured smirking.  
“Thanks,” Sam croaked out tiredly.  
  
Sam leaned heavily against Dean, letting himself being guided into the ex-hunter's bedroom and let himself fall into the soft mattress of his mate's bed. He didn't care. Even if Dean lead him to an abyss to dump him he would have followed.  
Dean made sure that Sam was covered in the comforter and blanket and adjusted the pillow until it looked comfortable.  
Sam was lying on his back, still too uncomfortable on his left side, curled up, as he was used to. His eyes fell shut immediately. He didn't even notice Dean giving him a tender kiss to the forehead.  
  
The ex-hunter brushed over Sam's cheek before he rose and adjusted the blanket once more before he left the room, leaving the door wide open in case Sam woke up or needed something – anything. 

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

The ex-hunter woke Sam up for a late lunch. He helped him to the bathroom and then into the kitchen, where he let him sit down. Garth was still there too, waiting for the both of them to arrive and have a seat. The scrawny alpha grinned broadly as he loaded their plates full with roast beef, sweet mashed potatoes and salad.  
They all ate.  
  
Sam wasn't hungry and far from feeling any kind of appetite, but he knew that Dean would worry if he didn’t eat. So he did. He ate as much as he possibly could before feeling too full.  
“That was good,” Sam sighed contently, when he leaned back slowly. “Real good, Garth.” He smiled tiredly.  
“Sam's right.” Dean grinned with a mouth full of food and scraping together the last remains on his plate. “That's awesome!”  
No one would've thought that Garth's grin could get any brighter. The tiny guy was already on his second serving, too. “My mom's recipe.”  
“So … what do you guys think about watching a nice movie on TV?” Dean spoke up.  
  
Garth cleared his throat and chuckled. “Nah. Without me. I gotta go.” He sniffed and rolled a bite of meat around in his mouth. “I've overlies to please. Have to get my report about Sam written and sent and stuff.” He sniffed. “I've serious work to do, guys. Can't hang around and do nothin'.” He wiggled his eyebrows as if to underline the words “to do.”  
  
Dean shook it off and licked crumbs from his teeth. His hand slipped under the table and onto Sam's thigh. The omega's cheeks tinted a soft pink and he ducked his head when he bowed forward slightly and laid his hand over Dean's.  
  
“I'm supposed to be back at the office tomorrow and considering that I'm not the fastest driver, I'm should get going by five – at least,” he explained and shoved another fork full of mashed potatoes into his mouth, groaning lowly. “But … don't you worry. I'm gonna see what I can find out. We'll talk on the phone.”

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Done as said, Garth Fitzgerald took off at five and left Dean and a snoring Sam in front of the TV on the couch.  
While Sam was fast asleep, Dean's mind was working in overdrive. He wondered if Sam was really out of the woods. Now not talking about his health per se, more in general, as if the birth of that THING was the only thing that connected him to this case.  
  
At least the ex-hunter hoped so. He wanted Sam out of the way when things got ugly, uglier than they had gotten already.  
Dean had his fingers buried in the omega's soft hair and kept massaging his scalp, even when Sam was asleep with his head in Dean's lap. He loved the feel of those soft strands slipping through his fingers, the sounds Sam made in his sleep whenever he brushed over that tiny spot right behind his ear. 

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

There was still food left from lunch, but Dean decided to have it tomorrow. For dinner, he'd make sandwiches and milk shakes. Maybe with a cream topping for Sam. He could use it anyway. So why not? 

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Three days later, Dean removed the stitches from Sam's wound and was satisfied to see the pink, healed skin. It wouldn't even scar that badly. Jim had done a great job.  
Sam was moving around in the cabin, too. He was helping with breakfast and dinner. Though, in between he was still sleeping a lot due to exhaustion. Dean let him do things on his own, but had always a watchful eye on him; for example when Sam was about to bow down and put on his socks, or slip into his sweats.  
  
They made small journeys through the yard.  
They would sit down somewhere and Sam would cuddle up to Dean.  
Then they'd get back and have a warm drink on the couch.  
Sam cupped the warm cup in his hands and brought it to his lips. Hot steam from the tea with a shot of bourbon crawled up his frozen nostrils. When he set it aside, he sneezed and sniffed and rubbed his nose at the back of his sleeve.  
“You not getting' sick, are you?” Dean eyed his mate suspiciously.  
  
Sam shook his head and inched closer to Dean until he was right up beside him, touching. There was a smug grin playing on his lips.  
“Somethin' you want, Sammy?” Dean's voice was a bit husky as he spoke. Just that tiny bit lower than it was used to be.  
Sam nodded.  
“What'd you want?” There was so much want in his voice and face.  
The omega tilted his head to the side. His big hand snuck onto Dean's knee. “I'd like to kiss you,” he whispered. The way he blushed when he said things like that, things that were basically innocent and though … coming from Sam's mouth … not sounding dirty at all.  
The alpha grinned. “Yeah? … What are you waiting for?” He leaned back a bit, adjusting, so that Sam could come closer.  
  
He did.  
  
He climbed practically on top of Dean, his calves along Dean's thighs. He tilted his head down and brushed their noses together.  
Then their lips.  
Sam didn't seem sure about it, even though they had kissed before.  
Dean decided that he didn't want to be teased. He decided that whenever Sam was too insecure to take the lead or just … being himself … he'd take it from him. Dean's arms wrapped around him and pulled him down, one hand on his back and one on the back of Sam's head.  
  
The alpha pressed his lips to Sam's and demanded entrance with his tongue. Sam yielded to him. Though it took him a moment to kiss him back, to make himself relax into it. He still felt kind of nervous while kissing, as if he was cheating on someone else, on himself, or god knew on what exactly.  
Though, Dean's scent was chasing his doubts away quickly and let himself being led back down onto the couch with the alpha on top of him.  
Sam's hand snuck under the ex-hunter's shirt. Hot soft skin against his palm as he brushed up his sides, feeling muscles flutter under his touch. Dean moaned into his mate’s mouth and ground his hips down against Sam's.  
  
It didn’t have the reaction Dean was expecting. Instead of some turned on noise, there was a pained whimper and that was the moment that he remembered Sam was still sore in different places and that it wasn't a very good idea to do certain things just now.  
Dean pulled back and sat up above Sam's thighs, looking down at him. “Sorry,” he murmured and wiped over his swollen lips. “What about we move into the bedroom, huh? More space?”  
  
Sam frowned at that, but nodded.  
Though to be honest: they didn't last very long in the bedroom. Both men fell asleep pretty soon after sneaking under the covers and cuddling up against each other, Sam as the little spoon like most of the time. Though, before he drifted off into a deeper slumber, he turned around in the alpha's embrace and buried his face in the older man's chest, breathing in musk and old wood and with that the unique odor of metal and oil.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

It was a week later, when Sam was doing a whole lot better and was nearly back to normal, that Dean Winchester decided that it was time to work on Sam's social skills in regard of people he didn't know.  
  
He decided to avoid places with a whole lot of people for their first time leaving the yard together. Of course, he had talked with Bobby, Ellen and Jim about it. Even Jody. And all of them were fairly certain that it would be safe now for the omega to leave the property and its safety.  
  
Dean had let Sam sleep in. He got dressed and shaved and made a pot of coffee. The ex-hunter had about three cups of it before Sam came shuffling out of – what had become – their bedroom.  
He had really bad bed-hair and the imprints of the pillow were visible on the left side of his face.  
He yawned and groaned and rubbed his eyes.  
  
“Mornin', Sweetheart.” Dean smiled at him brightly and - which Sam didn't notice at first - pretty nervously.  
The omega made a hoarse noise and sniffed as he shuffled towards the coffee machine. Only when he was pouring himself a cup of coffee did he noticed the lack of the usual scent of bacon and scrambled eggs.  
  
Sam dumped a butt-load of sugar into the mug and some milk and went to the kitchen-table, where Dean was sitting and watching him. He put the mug down and made a step past the chair, then bowed down and pecked the ex-hunter's cheek.  
That was considered a good morning for him, since Sam barely talked after just waking up. He seemed to be a lot like a not-so-morning-person, which was pretty fine with the alpha.  
  
When Sam was sitting on his chair and sipping his coffee, blinking around sleepily, Dean opened his mouth.  
And shut it again.  
He had no clue how to approach the topic of wanting to take Sam out for breakfast, to somewhere where other people were …  
“I thought...” Sam was actually half through his coffee before Dean had the guts to talk up. “...Maybe we could go out for breakfast today?” He smiled, covering his nervousness.  
Sam – who was about to sip from the mug again – put it back on the table and looked up in a mixture of confusion and shock.  
He was wide-awake in one second.  
  
He might have felt hungry before, but now that feeling was all gone. To be honest, he was starting to feel kind of sick.  
“Sammy?” Dean asked, reaching across the table and taking Sam's hand in his.  
The omega snapped out of it pretty fast and blinked at the man.  
  
“There's a nice diner outside of town. They've the best waffles you've ever eaten. And huge servings.” Dean knew that that kind of thing wouldn't bother the omega, so he could try, right? “It's quiet and nice. Besides … I don't think there'll be a whole lot of people there.”  
Sure Sam knew what his mate was trying to do, and basically he was right. He had to leave his safe haven sooner or later. He needed to go outside where other people were. Someday he'd need to have a job to pay off what he'd been given to by Bobby and the others. Somehow he needed to make it up to them.  
After all he was eating their food, he'd been given clothes that they had bought for him.  
  
Sam sighed.  
  
If it'd make Dean happy, he'd do it. He had to try – at least.  
Dean looked at him with hope filled eyes, huge and green and sparkling and who the hell could say no to that?  
Surely not Sam. So he smiled – though weakly – at him and nodded.  
“I'll get dressed,” he croaked out and stood up, his hands already shaking and his throat starting to close up on him.  
Surprised that it had been that easy, Dean was at a lack of words. Of course he hadn't anticipated that Sam would throw a temper tantrum, or that he'd say no. But the omega seemed to be good with it. Dean – kind of – had at least thought that there'd be signs of distress, or unease.  
So he watched Sam saunter into his bedroom and then waited eagerly for him to come back out.  
Sure, the omega took a bit longer than usual to get dressed and to brush his teeth, but Dean didn't give it any thought, since he figured it was completely normal to be nervous about leaving the house after such a long time.  
  
When Sam came out, he was clothed in a dark pair of jeans, his one and only pair of boots and the corners of a plaid button down poked out under the leather jacket Dean had gotten for him in the very beginning. Sam had smoothed his hair back behind his ears on one side and let the others fall into his face where the scar was.  
  
All in all, the omega looked hot as shit; all handsome and tall and hell … if that wasn't a picture to jack off to.  
Dean swallowed hard, his throat going dry and he croaked out an “are you ready?”  
Sam gave him a nervous smile. “I think … yeah.”

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Sam rode shotgun in the alpha's baby. He stared out of the window, watching the trees pass by. He kept on staring while they drove through Sioux Falls, watching all those people on the streets. It felt as if this wasn't his world, as if it had never been his. As if he wasn't supposed to be among all of them.  
Dean stole worried glances at the passenger's seat, overthinking his whole plan to take Sam out and he honestly thought about if it would be better to turn the heck around again. But he didn't.  
  
They'd do this and Sam would handle it. There'd only be a hand full of people there. Hopefully.  
Eventually they arrived at the diner. There were three other cars in the parking lot and Dean could spot five to six other guests and a waitress.  
They sat in the car for about ten minutes before either of them was able to use the door handle and leave the Impala. Sam didn't leave immediately. Just when Dean walked around and opened the door and beamed inside, he got his shit together.  
  
The diner seemed nice, but the omega wasn't sure if he could really do this. He looked inside the diner through the huge windows and frowned. Six people. And the waitress.  
  
The omega took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.  
Then he felt a hand in his and fingers intertwining with his shaky ones. “C'mon. Let’s get us a nice place inside.” Dean smiled, tugging at his hand.  
Sam followed, keeping his head bowed as soon as they entered.  
All eyes were on them. On Sam. His sweet scent, mixed with insecurity and fear infiltrating the air rapidly. No one could not look at them.  
Dean guided them to the very back of the diner and gestured Sam to take a seat in the last booth. The alpha slipped in opposite of him and stretched one of his legs out, so that it was brushing against Sam's ankle.  
Sam squeezed himself into the very corner between table, bench, and window and ducked his head even further down, when the waitress came along with two menus.  
  
Dean smiled up at her. “Heya, Milly,” he said cheerily. Of course he hadn't gone there without letting her and the owner – Brandon – know about the circumstances. He couldn't just walk into a diner with an omega who might freak out and have a panic attack and hoping to not get into any trouble. After all Sam did – in fact – look like a victim of domestic abuse. His whole behavior, the way he wouldn't look at anyone …  
  
That was why he chose this dinner today. He had called Brandon and had explained the situation roughly to him, so that he'd be there too to calm others down if Sam slipped into a mental breakdown or something.  
Calling the police – despite the fact that Jody knew him and Sam already – wasn't something he wanted. It'd cause a whole lot of trouble and would make the next time he wanted to go out with Sam a whole lot more difficult.  
So yes. Dean Winchester had planned this beforehand.  
  
To say the least, Dean had never been the one to play things through except it was for hunting. But with Sam, it was pretty much different.  
“What can I get you boys?” she asked, smiling brightly at them.  
  
Milly was in her late forties, but a sweet lady. She had six kids: two girls and four boys, all of them betas except for Jean and Josephine. Jean was an omega and Josephine an alpha. But Jose was the one that she had had to worry about for her entire life. As far as Dean was concerned, that kid was pretty closed up and barely leaving the house, due to an extremely horrible encounter with a group of guys from school a couple of years ago.  
So she understood.  
  
That was another reason why Dean had decided to go here with Sam. Maybe they’d even make it a regular when it'd work out today.  
“I'll have the … ‘pig in a poke.’ Extra bacon, gravy, coffee and some of your orange juice,” Dean answered first.  
She noted the things on her pad and then turned her attention towards Sam. “And what can I get you honey?”  
Sam flinched.  
  
Milly lost control over her face for a split second and a streak of sadness crossed her features, before she looked back at Dean.  
He wouldn't make Sam order for himself if he wasn't ready. With time he'd come out of his shell and would be able to order for himself. For now it was a big thing that Sam was even here with him.  
  
“I think he'll take a grand vanilla latte with sugar. Waffles with blueberries and whip cream and a chocolate milkshake.”  
She noted it again and then gave him a nod.  
Dean – who sat so that he had a nice view over the whole dinner, his back to the wall – watched as one of the men took hold of Milly's wrist and whispered something. She turned out of the grasp and patted the man's shoulder, who glared over towards Dean and Sam. She bowed down and whispered something back, too silent for Dean to understand.  
The man threw another glance back over his shoulder, this time his eyes were hooded with sorrow… or something similar. Dean didn't really care though.  
While they were waiting for their food, Sam raised his head a bit and looked out of the window. The Impala stood right outside in the winter sun, all black and sleek and beautiful. He could understand why Dean liked that car so much. She truly was a beauty.  
He was torn out from his thoughts when the chattering of silverware against dishes was heard and a huge plate with steaming hot waffles, a mountain of whipped cream and more than just a couple of blueberries were put in front of him.  
Sam's eyes went huge. This didn't just look awesome; it also smelled amazing.  
  
Dean grinned broadly at him and then at Milly.  
“Enjoy yourselves, boys,” she said and then she was gone again.  
The ex-hunter kept looking at Sam, who stared for the better part of five minutes at the plate before he dared to take the fork and knife and start to eat his way through it.  
  
Only when the omega started to eat, did Dean start, too, always keeping a watchful eye on the younger man.  
They ate slowly and didn't talk. Sam ravished the waffles, all his appetite back at once. They truly were the best waffles he'd ever had. Not that he could remember having ever eaten others than the ones Bobby and Dean had made for him.  
Sam concentrated on eating and not on the chattering from the other tables and the clattering that came from the kitchen. He shut the world around him out, staying in his little bubble until his plate was empty and his coffee finished.  
  
Desperately searching for something to hold onto, he sought contact with Dean, whose foot was still resting against his and looked out of the window, watching the sunbeams shining down on the Impala and the gleaming chrome.  
He didn't even notice Dean ordering the check and a whole cherry pie to take with them. Only when he felt the alpha pull his foot away, did he snap out of his daydreaming and gaze up through his bangs.  
  
He watched the Winchester rise and slip out of the booth. Sam followed his example, but then stopped, frozen where he stood.  
“Baby?” Dean asked with cocked eyebrows, his hand reaching out to him.  
Sam's gaze flickered from the hand up to Dean's face and back down. He wanted to reach for it. He truly did. But he – somehow – couldn't. There was this weird feeling in his head and chest again. The way his throat started to close up on him and how his chest grew tight, only allowing him short in and exhales. He blinked rapidly and swallowed hard.  
  
Then there was a familiar hand on his cheek and another one on his waist.  
Dean could feel the shift in the air. Sam's panic became almost palpable within seconds. He heard glass shatter behind him and sharp inhales. There were footfalls and Milly saying something in a strict voice.  
The alpha came up in front of Sam and cupped his cheek. “Sammy. C'mon, kiddo. You did so good,” he whispered softly.  
But his mate was just staring into nothingness.  
“Lets get you out of here, huh?” he whispered – more to himself since he was fairly sure that Sam couldn't process what was going on right now.  
He slipped up right beside him, one arm wrapped around his waist, holding him close. They only had to make it to the car. To his surprise it didn't take more than a gentle tug to make Sam move.  
  
Dean took the box with pie in his free hand and walked Sam past the men and Milly.  
She watched them leave.  
The men near the entrance gave Dean and his mate curious looks when they walked by, looking like they were thinking about rising and following them outside … Or demanding to know what was wrong with the omega … Figuring out if it was Dean who had done this to him … Making sure that Sam would be safe with this alpha.  
  
But there was Milly, giving them warning looks.  
Finally back in the car, Dean dared to suck in a deep breath. He looked over at Sam and laid his hand on the younger man's knee.  
“You did real good in there,” Dean said, stroking up and down Sam's thigh, trying to reassure him that everything was alright.  
Sam gave him a jerky nod, his chest rising and falling frantically.  
  
“I mean it, Sammy.” Dean smiled and put the box with pie into Sam's lap. “I'm proud of you. Real proud.” He still smiled. “What'd you say? Lets get back to the house, huh?”  
Sam gave him another jerky nod. 

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Everything was okay.  
Their second visit at Brandon's dinner went down even better. Sure, Sam wouldn't look at anyone else, but he did not have another panic attack. Besides being jumpy and a bit shaky, Sam didn't seem too bothered by going there.  
Okay, there might had been a really bad panic attack the third time they went there, but that was just because Sam have had a really bad night and morning and had seemed off in general. So it had also been partly Dean's fault, since he should've known that it may not was a good time to take Sam somewhere outside the Salvage.  
  
Other than Dean thinking that he might needed an ambulance, due the fact that not even he was able to calm Sam down after about five people thought that they would be helpful by crowding them, it hadn't been too bad.  
That day had been the worst so far.  
  
After coming home, Sam had immediately went into the bathroom and had emptied the contents of his stomach into the toilet. After that he had crawled into bed and had pulled the comforter over his head, not wanting to see or hear anything.  
But it’s Dean Winchester we're talking about, so he could not possibly leave it that way. He wouldn't let Sam crawl back into his shell only because of one shitty day.  
  
Dean blew out a slow exhale before he entered their bedroom. He snuck in silently, but not too silent, and crawled in on the free side of the bed. The ex-hunter snuck under Sam's comforter and felt that he had his back turned towards him. He felt the slight shaking, which meant that Sam was either cold or crying.  
When a silent sob was heard, he figured it was the latter. He didn't say anything at all. He only inched closer and wrapped his arms around the omega's middle and kissed his shoulder.  
  
“It's okay, you know?” Dean whispered against his skin. “It's not your fault. Things like that happen, Sunshine. You can't control that.”  
That was all it needed to send Sam over the edge and push him into full-blown weeping-mode.  
Dean snuggled up right behind him and held him tight.  
“You only have to hold on, okay? We'll try again. And next time we'll figure out if it's a good day or a bad day,” he explained calmly. “Now we know that we stay at home on bad days, right?”  
  
Sam turned around in the man's grasp and buried his wet face into Dean's shoulder.  
“That's my boy.” He drank in his mate's scent. “We'll get through this. You'll see. It'll only take time. But you'll heal.” There was the bitterness of despair, but the omega's smell was still intoxicating to Dean. 

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Sam was alone in the bed and still sound asleep. He hadn't heard Dean's phone going off and him picking up, telling the man on the other end of the line that he'd be outside in a couple of minutes.  
Sam didn't hear the front door being opened and closed when Dean left and he didn't hear the door open again, when dirty, heavy boots made their way across the living room.  
He didn't hear a gun being cocked and he didn't notice a salt-and-pepper haired man with three-day-old scruff covering his face, stopping in his tracks in the doorway to the bedroom.  
  
But Samuel T. Harvelle's subconscious instincts roared to live at the deadly stare the man directed at him.  
He did stir and frown and make an uneasy sound when the man raised his desert eagle, pointing it dead center in the middle of his forehead.  
Sam's eyes jerked open at the sound of the safety being removed and he found himself staring into the barrel of a gun, which was right in front of his face. He sucked in a sharp breath and his gaze flickered up at a pair of cold green-brown eyes that were drilling into his skull.  
  
The man's scent had something familiar to him. Though, his sleep-dazed mind couldn't quite tell yet. Maybe it was the smell of metal and oil. Or maybe it was the odor of whiskey and cigarette smoke. Maybe it was that deep musky tang which filtered into his brain and reminded him a little bit of Dean … 

… to be continued

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> beta'd by JOJO :) thanks girl, you're amazing!


	21. John Winchester

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hey guys! :)  
> let me know if it's easier to read it with this formating, okay?  
> thanks to jojo as always!

Fields Of Jasmine  
Chapter 21 ~ John Winchester

Slowly but surely, Dean Winchester surfaced from the darkness. Within the first few moments of consciousness, he didn't know where he was or how he gotten onto the hard cold ground.  
He felt the low throbbing in his skull like a sledgehammer. He felt his aching hand and arm from where it had been wrenched behind his back.  
“Sammy.”, he croaked out, blinking his eyes open once, before slamming them shut again. “Shit.” He tilted his head to the side and rolled it, trying to ease the throbbing a bit. Well, it didn't work.  
  
He heard a muffled noise from close by and pried his eyes open again. First his vision was quite blurry and unfocused, but within seconds, his gaze focused on a pair of boots.  
The muffled noises increased.  
The alpha squinted up and followed the boots and legs with his gaze until it reached a very familiar face.  
“Caleb?”, he ground out through gritted teeth.  
The man was gagged and tied to a chair. Bobby's coworker had a bad gash on his forehead, which was still bleeding a bit. Frantic eyes were darting from Dean to the open door of the garage and back at him. The man was yelling through his gag, trying to tell the alpha something.  
Dean groaned as he pushed himself up on all fours and winced when his hip stung and his knee protested against the movement. The ex hunter coursed under his breath again, as he eventually managed to get onto his feet. He stumbled over towards Caleb and pulled the gag from his mouth.  
The man swallowed dryly.  
  
“GO.”, Caleb croaked out too. “The omega.”  
Dean's eyes narrowed. A moment later his gaze darted through the room, searching for a sharp object. He grabbed the first thing he could find, what were actually pliers and cut the cables through with which Caleb was bound by his wrists. Dean dropped the pliers into the mans lap.  
“Go, get Bobby and Ellen. And Jim if he's still there. Tell them we've a visitor.” He sniffed as he pulled away.  
  
Caleb managed a nod, before Dean was gone and on his way to the office, where he hoped to find Bobby's gun. Lucky him, there truly was one. An old revolver. Loaded.  
“Yahtzee” Dean grinned mischievously. Whoever had entered the Salvage without premison was screwed. So screwed.  
Dean limped a couple of yards, before he took off into a jog, which morphed into a run. The air outside was crispy and tickling his exposed skin. The sun was still down at this time of a year, but dawn was about to break over the land.  
  
His only thought was Sam. Whoever it was, whatever he wanted … There were a lot of things that guy could take, but not Sam. Not the omega. Not what was actually his.  
He'd do a damn to let – whoever this was – come close to his man.  
Adrenaline pumped through his veins, letting the blood roar in his ears.  
Dean had to make it back to the cabin. The knowledge that Sam might was in danger, spurring him on. He'd need at least fifteen minutes to get back. Way too long for his liking.  
  
As soon as the cabin was in sight, he started to slow down into a jog, the revolver's barrel gleaming in the faint light of the half-moon.  
What happened next could only be described as flat-out terrifying and shocking.  
Dean stopped dead in his tracks. So did his breath. His eyes went wide and a sharp pang of hurt flashed through his chest at the very familiar sound of a gun being fired. There was a flash of light in the room which was his bedroom. THEIR bedroom.  
The room in which Sam was supposed to sleep safely and peacefully.  
  
“No no no no no ...”, he breathed.  
His mind ordered his limbs to move. But they didn't.  
They just wouldn't obey him.  
“Sammy.” The ex hunter's face paled, his hand started to shake. “No. No, dammit.”, he ground out through gritted teeth. Not believing what he had just witnessed. What this high likely meant.  
Finally – eventually – Dean managed to get his wobbly legs going. He made them move, holding the revolver in a death-grip.  
Whoever – whatever – was in there would pay. Dearly.  
  
If Sam had as much as a scratch on him, it'd suffer. Not after what they had been through and after what Sam had endured so far. Not after managing to get the omega out of the cabin and into the diner.  
Not now, when everything finally seemed to settle down.  
Not now, where they …. No, Dean wouldn't go there. His Sammy was supposed to be fine. He was supposed to be alive. They hadn't gone through all of this just to be ripped apart due his and Bobby's carelessness.  
  
Ever so rude and loud he thumped up the porch and burst through the leaned on front-door, holding the revolver before him and ready to make use of it at any moment. He went further into the cabin, aiming for the bedroom.  
  
Dean saw the silhouette of a tall man standing there, illuminated by the spare light of the bedside lamb. A very familiar frame. One he hadn't thought finding in that postion. The man's shoulders were rising and falling in a frantic pattern. To Sam's bare feet were dirty boot-clad ones twitching.  
“Sammy?”, he asked in disbelieve, staring at the figure, who stood with the back towards him. Sam. It was Sam.  
  
Just then, the heavy scent of another alpha washed over him. Too familiar. Too much cigarette smoke and whiskey and old spice.  
Too much like his fathers.  
No, it couldn't be.  
This was impossible.  
Though the shock, he blinked, and ripped his own thoughts away from what his nose was telling him who this were. He swallowed thickly as he made another step into the room and towards his mate. Only now he saw the twitching muscles in the omega's neck and taut ones of his arm in which's hand he held a handgun.  
  
Dean Winchester swore under his breath. “Son of a bitch.”  
The gun too seemed familiar.  
All silvery, engraved chrome with white inlays.  
Just like the one his father had owned and which the werewolf had taken with his father's body, when he had dragged him into the darkness of the woods.  
Memories came back into his mind. About the grief and sorrow he had felt as he woke up from the coma in that hospital three months after getting admitted.  
  
Back then the doctors had told him, that his leg may wouldn't work again. That he'd basically be a gimp who'd need to find himself a job in which he wouldn't have to walk all the time. Or lift things …  
Well, right now there was Sam, with a gun in his hands, pointing finger on the trigger. There was that man – smelling like his father – on his back on the floor, staring straight into the omega's eyes. He too was panting.  
  
One look past Sam onto the man on the floor and Dean's assumptions got conformed.  
“Dad?”, his voice high-pitched. In a matter of seconds, his expression turned from shocked and disbelieving into angry and confused.  
John Winchester was alive.  
His and the older hunter's gazes locked.  
  
“Son.”, he said breathlessly, his face contorted in coolness.  
Dean reached forward and laid his hand over Sam's. “It's okay, Sammy.”, he whispered gently. “Give me the gun.”  
John's eyes narrowed at his son and the omega curiously, his expression hardening.  
But Sam wouldn't let go. He stood there. Staring with wide eyes at the man at his feet. He was pale and breathing frantically. The omega held the gun in a death-grip as if it was that thing keeping him in place not the other way round.  
  
“Sam.”, he said again, this time even softer, curling his fingers around Sam's carefully. “Give me the gun.”  
The omega's gaze flickered towards his mate. His lips were quivering, his hands starting to shake even more. He was blinking at the man below, not daring to leave him out of his gaze.  
  
Eventually, the omega's grip on the gun loosened and Dean was able to take it from him. He blew out a breath he didn't know he was holding and put the revolver into the waistband of his jeans.  
The moment, the gun didn't point at the older Winchester anymore, he was about to get up. But Dean stopped him by pointing his own gun back at him, giving him a warning look. “You stay.”, he hissed. His free hand sneaking around Sam's waist and coming to a rest on his hip.  
  
The omega swayed. Dean drew him closer, holding him. “It's okay. I've got this.”, he said without looking away from his father. “You hurt?” He squeezed Sam's hip gently, letting the omega know that he was talking to him.  
Sam didn't respond. He just kept staring at the hunter on the floor, who stared back at him, with an expression that didn't mean any good. John looked slightly disgusted.  
“Sammy.”, Dean demanded, his voice stable and cool. “You hurt anywhere?” Because, yes, it was that important.  
Besides a faint bruise on his yaw and a split bleeding lip, nothing seemed wrong with his mate. But then again … when could he ever be sure about that?  
“Dean.”, John Winchester spoke up, his voice husky and cold. “Don't.”  
  
Dean's growled. Actually growled at his father. If not knowing better, you could say his gaze was soaked in hatred with a hint of deep hurt.  
“You shut your mouth.”, the younger Winchester ground out through gritted teeth. “No one's talkin' to you right now.”  
Sam made a small noise and he swayed again, his fingers finding their way into the back of his mate's shirt.  
And then everything happened within seconds.  
  
Dean dared to cast his look towards Sam, who was about to slip out under his grasp. John Winchester was arching his back from the ground and jumped into a squat, aiming with his hand for the gun in his son's hand.  
  
If it wouldn't have been for the alpha's fast reflexes, John had gotten a hold of his wrist, but Dean was faster. With a smooth motion – he had to let go of Sam for that – he blocked John and hit him in the head with the butt of the gun, sending him down on the floor and into unconsciousness.  
The few seconds it took him to take his father out, Sam had grumbled to the floor, spasming and making choked off sounds as his body seized, his muscles contracting and relaxing as if he'd get electrocuted.  
  
The alpha fell on the floor to his knees and laid the gun aside, to have both of his hands free. He managed to get Sam on his side and hold him like that.  
It was dark.  
There were stars above him, sparkling like diamonds in the black sky. It was warm and he only wore a tee and jeans and sneakers.  
The woods around him seemed calm.  
Maybe a bit too calm though.  
  
Sam wondered where he was, how he had gotten here. Last he remembered he was in the cabin with Dean and a stranger his mate had called dad.  
That was when he noticed, that he had no control over what his body was doing. He could only watch … Watch how he sneaked through the under-wood and feel how his eyes narrowed at the claw-marks on those trees around him. Sam had no clue what was happening to him. He had no idea where he was going, nor what he was hunting for.  
  
Then there was an agonizing scream echoing through the night.  
He heard himself – with his own voice – curse when there was another pain-filled yell.  
Then there was silence.  
Sam stopped dead in his tracks and his head turned aside into the direction he had been coming from.  
Then there was the rustling of leaves and the scent of blood and intestines.  
Rustling again.  
Only now Sam realized, that he had a knife in one hand and a flare gun in the other one.  
There was another sound to his left.  
  
What the hell was that? What was he doing? Where was he going and what kind of thing was out there?  
Because he was pretty sure that – whatever was happening right now – wasn't a walk in the park.  
It was everything, just not that.  
While Sam felt like panicking and wanting nothing more but to run, he could sense his other me that he was about to do the opposite.  
Sam wasn't going to run. He was waiting.  
Waiting for IT to turn up.  
  
Most of the time wishes and hopes didn't come true, but in this case they would. An ugly creature, faster than anything he'd ever seen, came for him and tackled him to the ground.  
He heard himself curse, felt his own lips move as he hit the ground. For a moment, all air was punched out of his lungs and when he attempted to get back up on his feet, the ugly thing appeared above him. All wrinkled skin and spiked ears. Yellow gleaming cat-like eyes boring into him. Sharp claws ripping through his shirt and skin and at that very moment, the thing screamed like fire-sirens. Sam's gaze flickered in between himself and the creature and he saw his knife buried in the thing's chest to the hilt.  
  
A moment later he felt himself pulling the trigger of the fire-lighter and besides the nearly unbearable heat and blinding white light, there was nothing left after another moment.  
“Sammy.”, Dean gasped, when the younger man went lax in his grasp.  
Sam's eyes where half open and he made stuttering breaths. His muscles twitched uncontrollably.  
“Talk to me, sunshine.”, he murmured, searching Sam's body with his hands. “Sam.”  
He held the man's face in his hands and tried to catch his gaze through half-lidded eyes. “Please.”  
But Sam remained incoherent.  
  
The ex hunter cursed and lowered his mate's head back down onto the floor. He hurried up to get to his feet and snatched a pillow from the bed, which he positioned under his mate's head.  
Before he could take care of Sam he needed to take care of something else. Someone else.  
Right in that moment, his friends burst through the front-door, led by Robert Singer. All of them armed to the teeth with knifes and riffles.  
When they came into the room, he heard sharp intakes of air and gasps at what they were seeing.  
“John?”, Bobby asked in disbelieve. Of course he had thought too, that the man had been dead. Well, until now.  
“Mind getting him into your basement? All tied up?”, Dean asked over his shoulder without looking up. As far as he was concerned, John had tried to shoot Sam. Well, AND he had knocked Dean out cold before.  
  
So his father had thought he could get through with this. Walking in. Luring Dean away from his house and knocking him out. Shooting Sam. And walking back out without anyone of them knowing who it could've possibly been. May even laying a wrong trail.  
That was so John Winchester.  
The ruthlessness in it too.  
“Is that?”, he heard Ellen mutter in pure wonder.  
“Just … get him out of here.”, Dean ground out.  
Obviously that reached out to get the others into motion.  
Bobby, Ellen, Caleb and Jim where inside the room in an instant and surrounding John. Caleb kept his riffle up and pointed at the unconscious man. Ellen slipped back out of the room and came back with rope.  
  
Dean hovered over Sam, feeling his pulse every few minutes and trying to rouse him from whatever state he was in.  
When John was gone, and it was only him, Sam and Jim left in the house, he decided that he'd better get Sam onto the bed. Jim checked him over and declined that he was sound. That there may be a bruise on his yaw in a couple of hours, but nothing seemed to be broken and that there were no bullet-wounds. He also confirmed, that there didn't were any signs that Sam had gotten a punch to the head either.  
The omega was barely awake during Jim checking him over.  
  
It looked like he was fighting to come back to reality. Though it was no use in fighting exhaustion and aura. So Sam drifted into a light slumber. 

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

The Sun was already rising, when the omega first opened his eyes. He'd been out cold for about an hour and a half.  
He felt the softness of the bed below him and a strong arm around his waist. He felt the warmth of the comforter and another body behind him. He felt drained and sore and then he remembered what he had hoped to be a real bad dream.  
The man.  
  
At that, the omega's eyes flew open and his body was ready to scramble away from the grasp around his waist and the warmth and simply everything that didn't seem to fit for him right at the moment.  
At least not after what he had seen in his vision. Or memory. Or whatever this had been.  
“Hey, Sammy.”, Dean whispered and tightened his hold around his mate. “How're you feeling?” He wouldn't let him pull away. Not physically and most of all not mentally.  
Sam blinked and made a small sound of discomfort, as he pushed against Dean's arm.  
The alpha urged his mate to turn around and look him in the eyes. He kept the arm under Sam around his lower back and cupped his face in the other one.  
“C'mon. Look at me.” Dean tilted the omega's head up and made him look back.  
Sam locked his gaze with Dean's.  
“What did you see?” Yes, the ex hunter felt those fine tendrils which held onto Sam's mind. Spiderwebs and dust-bunnies still fogging the younger man's brain.  
  
“Sammy.” The intensiveness of the alpha's look was chilling.  
“Wendigo.”, Sam's voice broke. “It was a Wendigo.” He blinked stunned. He wasn't supposed to know that, right? He wasn't supposed to know how to call this creature. Except …  
Dean's eyes widened and his pupils dilated, but before he could say anything, Sam continued: “It ripped into me with its claws. It … it … I did it.” Sam blinked again, still surprised about what he'd seen. What he'd felt. And most of all what he felt right now.  
  
Because it was as if he already knew. As if he was supposed to know and somehow the vision started to feel as if it was a memory.  
“I killed it, Dean.” Sam cast his look down and back up at Dean. “It nearly killed me and I killed it. I felt it. With … with a flare gun. I've lit it up and it burned. It was so hot. It …” The omega's eyes were wild. His pupils blown.  
  
Dean shushed him, pushing his own confusion about what Sam was telling him aside. It wasn't the right time to ask questions anyway. First he needed Sam to calm down. Like later. Much later.  
“What happened then?”, he asked quietly.  
“Everything went black.”, Sam croaked out. “I ...” He searched his mate's face. “Was it true? Did this happen?”  
Dean swallowed. He wasn't quite sure how to answer that question at first. So he took his time to think about it. Though, it took him a bit longer than any of the both of them liked, before he answered.  
  
“I don't know, Sam.”, he whispered. “But we'll figure it out.”  
Sam gave him a jerky nod. Though, he didn't quite believe him. How was Dean supposed to figure it out, when he himself had no clue how to find out if this had been happening, or if it had only been some bad dream?  
  
They stayed like that for a little while longer. Sam snuggled back up against Dean and Dean held him, kissing his forehead. 

… to be continued


	22. Flashbacks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll try to format the first 19 chapters in the next couple of days ... :)  
> jojo beta'd this chapter :)

Fields of Jasmine  
Chapter 22 ~ Flashbacks

Sam had been having seizures for the past week.  
They had no clue what triggered it, or why. None of them had an idea where they came from. Well, not everyone.  
Dean Winchester had a certain file that a certain scrawny alpha had given to him a while ago. He hadn't thought about it until the seizures started to happen on a daily basis with more and more detailed pictures and thoughts.  
  
Sam told him everything, in a desperate need for the visions to stop. Maybe Dean and the others could help him, like they had before. Maybe they could tell him what this was, since he didn't think that these were visions.  
It felt a whole lot more like flashbacks. Each time he remembered, he'd feel all weird and as if he was supposed to remember. But he simply didn't.  
He couldn't.  
  
Actually there weren't specific things that seemed to trigger those flashbacks. One time it was the clattering of cutlery, which catapulted his mind back to where he was actually cooking for himself on a tiny stove in something like a motel room. Another time he found himself looking through his own eyes (though unable to control a single thing) into the ones of a woman with fangs and cat-like eyes and claws. Another time he found himself hurt in the woods, running from something, or lighting up a cabin.  
  
So, while Sam slept after his last seizure-like flashback, Dean got the folder Garth had given to him and started to flip through it. He made his own notes and read each page a couple of times. He even tried to put hints together on what this “Shadow” looked like. But there was nothing but his size described and there were a whole lot of tall people wandering the world. So it didn't mean that it had to be Sam being the “Shadow.”  
  
Though … due to the things his mate had described to him, it looked a whole lot like Samuel T. Harvelle had been a hunter. And maybe even more than that …  
On top of the current problems with Sam, which never seemed to truly stop (the kid never got a break), there was John Winchester locked up in Bobby's panic room.  
Dean hadn't been down there ever since Bobby and Ellen had taken the man there, but he had warned them to not let him go or let him walk in the yard freely. Not after he had tried to kill Sam. Not when he was a threat to his mate.  
  
Bobby had assured him that none of the tests worked on John, which meant that the man down in the basement had to be human. His old friend had also told him that John was pretty much John and that he had warned them to trust Sam because of several reasons.  
Well, he had known about Sam being a psychic and he had known that Savanger hadn't really been a vampire. He had also known that demons were involved in the case and that the girl's name was Meg Masters, former student and now demon's host.  
  
He … or she … or it … had vacated Savanger's body before, do it was one and the same bastard.  
John also seemed to know that Sam had been carrying one of Orthos's children inside of him, but what he didn't know was that that was no longer the case.  
His father thought that Sam was still infected by the evil spawn, so he had fought for almost three days to let him out and prove what he was saying. Obviously, the older Winchester thought that Dean was in serious danger if he stayed with the omega.  
  
He fell on deaf ears.  
John Winchester had left his son to think he was dead. He had left Dean in a hospital all to himself in a coma and hadn't cared about saying at least hi after he had woken up.  
Nope.  
It had been Bobby who had been there most of the time, sitting by his bed and talking to him. He had been the one who had told him that John was most likely dead. He had seen Dean Winchester fall apart, after three months of being in a coma, due the fact that he hadn't been able to save his father.  
So no. John Winchester didn't deserve any less than being ignored by his son.  
  
Dean wasn't even sure if he'd be able to forgive his father for pulling this stunt ever. He had thought he was dead. DEAD. Like six feet under. 

~ 67 Chevrolet Impala ~

Dean decided on the eighth day that it was about time to visit ol’ John, who was still on lock-down in Bobby's basement. It wasn't that bad after all. He was surely better than lying with a ripped open rib cage in some werewolf's den, choking on his own blood.  
Or so Dean thought. When he was a kid – even as a teenager – they had way worse homes. Dean figured that his father could deal with the panic room for another week. Then again … he wanted to get past this.  
  
Sam sat on the couch, rubbing his left temple. Dean was currently in the kitchen, heating up soup with noodles for his boyfriend. The omega had just woken up half an hour before and was sore all over.  
  
First off because he had hit the kitchen counter with his left shoulder when he fell and second from spasming and thrashing around as he seized.  
Dean hadn't noticed at first, since he had gone to the back of the house to put logs into the central heater. Only when he came back inside and heard those choking noises did he know what was going on and was beside Sam in an instant. He rode it out with him; made sure he wouldn't swallow his tongue or choke or hurt himself anymore. He turned him onto his side and held him there until he went lax.  
  
Then Dean had carried him into the bedroom like so many times before and let Sam sleep it off.  
The ex hunter sighed and shook his head at what had happened only two hours ago. He remembered the way Sam's face had been scrunched up and how taut his body was. The alpha remembered too clearly how helpless he felt.  
He didn't feel comfortable with the thought of leaving Sam on his own in the cabin after this either.  
But what was he supposed to do?  
  
Sam wanted to be alone after those events – mostly. Sure, sometimes when he woke up, he searched for Dean's closeness and comfort in calloused hands. But sometimes – like today – the young omega seemed as if he needed to be alone to process what he'd seen.  
Sam would be jumpy and close to panicking whenever Dean would try to come any closer than necessary. And it hurt. It hurt Dean really badly that Sam didn’t feel the safety he was supposed to feel when he was with his mate. With Dean.  
  
Dean could tell that the omega knew that. The way he gazed up at him under hooded eyes, filled with sorrow but still flinching away from the alpha's hand.  
Sam had apologized for that and had said that he didn't know why he acted that way sometimes. He couldn't even explain it properly to the other man. He could only tell that he was so sorry and that it wasn't because of Dean.  
  
The microwave dinged and Dean was torn away from his thoughts. He got the huge mug with noodle soup and brought it into the living room, where Sam was still sitting on the couch, a blanket around his shoulders and looking so miserable it tore at Dean's heart.  
  
The alpha sat down beside the younger man and ignored the slight flinch and the way Sam leaned towards the other side, away from him.  
“Soup,” Dean spoke softly and placed it onto the coffee table with a big spoon. He shoved the mug right in front of Sam.  
He wanted so badly to be closer, to wrap his arm around Sam's back, or rub it up and down. He watched Sam putting his shaking hands into his lap.  
“I don't mean it,” the omega murmured softly. He blinked up under bed hair and bangs and blinked at Dean. “I … I just … I can’t...” He sighed, tears springing into his eyes. “I don't know why, Dean.”  
  
“It's okay,” Dean tried to smile, but failed. He knew that Sam knew that this was a lie.  
“No, it's not,” Sam croaked out. “It hurts you. I … I don't want you to be hurting because of me...” He swallowed. He had messed up the whole day again. Dean had wanted to check on his father – the man in the basement – and now this … “You know, you can go, right? I'll be okay...”  
Dean's gaze turned a bit harder. “Sam,” his voice held something wary.  
“Dean,” the omega sighed. “It's fine. I'm fine. For now.”  
  
Dean watched the younger man's fingers intertwine to still his shaking hands. He watched him for another long moment rather skeptically.  
Sam didn't look fine.  
“It's not like… like I don't want to have you around…” He opened his mouth again, but Dean stopped him by talking up.  
“I know. So … you'll be okay for an hour?” He raised both eyebrows, waiting for Sam to hesitate, but he didn't.  
  
The omega gave him a weak, but sweet smile, really adorable in fact. “I'll call you, okay? If anything happens, I'll call. Or if I need anything, anything at all, I'll call too.” Yep, Sam knew how to reassure the alpha, standing his skeptical gaze like a pro. “I'll go lie down again, anyway.”  
When Dean didn't speak, Sam continued. “It's just a few yards, Dean,” he tried to assure him again. It wasn't like he really wanted to get rid of his mate. But he felt the need that Dean felt to go and talk to that man. He knew that he needed answers, that they needed answers.  
  
And to be honest? Sam was more of a liability. Even more now than he had been before. Dean shouldn't think that he'd need to have an eye on Sam each moment of the day.  
“But...”  
“No buts. I know how important this is to you. You guys need to figure out what's going on and … John … most likely knows something,” Sam explained softly. “It's important to you guys.”  
“YOU are important, Sammy.” The alpha smiled sweetly.  
The omega blushed and turned his gaze away shyly.  
  
Dean sighed. “Okay, okay.” He was about to reach out to cup Sam's face in his hand and pull him in for a kiss, but he stopped himself as he saw the wary expression on Sam's face. Once more he had to remind himself that Sam didn't mean it like that.  
Maybe it was better to leave his mate some space without him hovering over the omega.  
  
So Dean made his way to Bobby’s, after another few inner-mind-debates about the pros and cons of leaving Sam behind in the cabin. Eventually he managed to get his shit together and got dressed. It was still cold outside, so he chose his warm parker instead of the leather jacket.  
His father's leather jacket actually.  
  
For the first time since he could remember that the both of them were a pair, Dean didn't give Sam a kiss to say until later. He didn't kiss him goodbye.  
Instead he returned Sam's waving hand and longing look and then got out of the house before he could decide otherwise. 

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

It was quiet in Bobby's house.  
Dean brushed his jacket off and threw it in the kitchen over one of the chairs.  
The room was empty.  
So was the living room.  
No trace of Jim or Bobby.  
  
Jim was back in Sioux Falls since Sam's seizures had started.  
That was until he heard noises from the basement. Someone was talking.  
He sauntered downstairs, not quite sure what he wanted to ask his father. Well, he knew what he wanted to say to him, but that had nothing to do with questioning.  
  
Now that he was thinking about going inside the panic room and to face his father, Dean felt the anger flare up again.  
Ellen and Bobby were there, right at the foot of the stairs. They looked up when they heard Dean's heavy boots on the stairs.  
“Hey,” Dean greeted them, a rather troubled expression on his face.  
“Hey yourself.” Ellen sighed and rubbed over her forehead.  
  
“John's pissed, boy.” Bobby sounded rather amused, while Ellen looked a bit annoyed.  
“Welcome to my world,” Dean gave them a smug grin and brushed past his both old friends. “His skull ain't broken, I take it.”  
Ellen chuckled. “No Winchester’s broken his skull – ever.”  
“We'll see about that.” And with that he opened the heavy iron door and stepped in. When the door closed behind him, he heard the lock being shut from the outside.  
  
His gaze didn't leave the man, who was sitting in the chair by a small table. A bottle of water, apples, and a glass was there too.  
Both men locked their gazes, one staring harder than the other one.  
“You knocked me out,” John Winchester was the first one to speak up.  
“You knocked me out first,” his son countered unimpressed. His voice was low and cool. Like the silence before the storm.  
“Touché.” His father chuckled and shook his head. “So. Bobby told you?”  
Of course it was about the job. It was always about the job.  
  
“Why don't we talk about the fact that you aren't dead? Why don't you explain to me, why the hell you couldn’t AT LEAST leave me a sign that you were alive?” Dean paced the room as he continued to stare his father down. He did nothing to hide his red-hot rage from the older alpha.  
“It was for your best, son.” John's voice hadn't changed. Nor the way he spoke, all authoritative and husky. “I didn't plan on going down that road, but you catch the opportunity when you see it.” He cleared his throat.  
  
“You left me there to die,” Dean hissed as he stopped in his tracks and made a step towards his father. “You left me in those damn woods to die, dammit!”  
John's smile faded rapidly as he shook his head. “I didn't. Whatever happened out there, I can't remember. What I do remember is waking up in a hospital two towns over, one week after the day we went into the woods.” His father looked a bit sad. But only a bit. After all it wasn't a marine's way to show emotions. “I took off the same night and when I heard that...” He huffed out a breath. “That you're in a coma and that … that you wouldn’t make it...”  
  
Dean's nostrils flared. “What DAD?” His nostrils flared some more, his chest heaving with raged breaths. “What? You just left me there to die?! You didn't think about staying there with me? Your SON? Your blood?” he spat at the older man. “Afraid I'd be a liability to you and the job if I'd get through it? Tell me, what exactly did you think?”  
  
Dean could read it all over John's face. That this wasn't true. The old man was hurt by hearing what his son thought he'd done. But the younger Winchester figured he deserved it. He should feel all the pain he had felt.  
  
“I thought about staying with you.” John was oddly calm. “But then I saw Bobby… and I left. I couldn't stand there and watch you die. I couldn't.” He sighed. “I figured you're better with Bobby than me.” His lips quirked into a sad smile. “You know what a crappy and impatient father I was. I would've messed up everything.” John broke eye contact and took a couple of breaths. “I've laid low for a few weeks and when I was healed up I've checked on you once. I've had a whole lot time to think about things. And I decided that… that for the job I had in line for the both of us after the werewolf that I couldn't put you into so much danger. So… I vanished.” Dean pondered that thought. A bit of his rage ebbed away. “What job?” He already knew. He could see it in the way John's features hardened.  
  
“The thing that you give shelter, son.” John rose from the chair. “The thing you are protecting.”  
Dean nodded, pursing his lips, looking at the far wall. “How long?”  
  
John Winchester sighed. “Actually only a week. I followed its tracks to Columbus and … when the counselor told me that he wasn’t living there anymore … I figured I'd be the one who saved his sorry ass.” His father sighed again. “I figured it out after hacking into her.” John seemed amused, for a moment at least, before his features hardened. “Can you imagine how surprised I was to read that MY SON fell for a monster? Someone who simply vanished after hitting sixteen?”  
Dean raised both eyebrows, ignoring the names he was calling Sam for now. “You so sure about that, huh?”  
  
John gave him a firm nod. “He's a psychic, isn't he? What's his specialty? Mind control? … Does he make you...”  
Dean interrupted him with a loud laugh. “You think he's controlling me?” His eyes flared up with amusement once again. “Wow… Dad…” He sighed. “Obviously you didn't do your homework as good as we did ours.” Dean raised both eyebrows as if the old man wasn't telling him anything new. He tried to hide his hurt about his father thinking that Dean was too dumb to notice a trap. “I know all about it.” He pursed his lips and shook his head to the left and right. “Actually, he's not the monster here. If you'd done a proper job, you'd know that.”    
  
“Sure it is! He's a psychic. They chose him because of it! It means something, boy, don't you see it?” John was close to yelling now. “He's messing with you, son.”  
  
“We removed the parasite from Sam. He's clean. And he's alive. Sam was close to dying, you know? But he made it. So, thank you for your concern and all, but I really don't care what you are thinking.” He wasn't sure what hurt his father more, the fact that he didn't care what John had to say about his mate, or that he kept cool like this. “You played dead for two years and left me to rot in that hospital. That's what counts, what I'm gonna remember.” Dean calmed down a bit, his voice softer at its edges. “Sam's out of that case. I don't want you near him.”  
  
His father stared at him, flames in his eyes. He thrust his jaw forward like he always did when he was about to explode. “That little sneaky b-” The older Winchester didn't come any further.  
  
“Let me tell you this much:” Dean was right in John's face the next moment; so close they shared breaths. Then he spoke calmly: “You try to pull something like that again, old man, I will kill you. You don't get near Sam. You don't get near our house.” Dean swallowed, his voice turning a nudge sharper, threatening. He backed off a step. “Me and Sam. We're one. He's my omega and I'm going to protect him from whatever's out there. Even my own flesh and blood.”

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Sam inhaled the mug with noodle soup in hyper-speed.  
And his stomach didn't feel full at all.  
He knew where Dean kept the chocolate and candies. Even those tiny bits called Jelly Beans. There were those who tasted like vanilla. They had this white color. And others were brown and white and tasted like coffee …  
Anyway, if he wanted them he had to get up and going.  
Sam squinted towards the kitchen and thought about the pros and cons of getting up and getting them. After a mental plus and minus list, he decided that it was totally worth it to get up.  
  
He felt a bit insecure on his feet, like a new born giraffe and his head gave him a slight stab at the change of height, but other than that he felt good. As good as he could possibly feel after it.  
That made him think about the flashback he had been living through. Memories he didn't want to think about, if he was honest with himself. So far it all was so different from how he felt now.  
One thing Sam was sure of. He'd been a hunter. He'd been hunting the same creatures Dean and Bobby were hunting.  
  
Werewolves.  
  
Wendigos.  
  
Vampires.  
  
Shtrigas.  
  
Kitsunes.  
The whole nine yards.  
He could live with knowing THAT.  
  
But what he didn't understand was, why he hid. He saw other men and women, too. Hunters, he supposed. But he never talked to them; he never went near them. Samuel T. Harvelle had been hiding away and flying under their radar. Even the emotions he felt weren't even close to those he felt now.  
It was hard to explain though.  
  
Back then he seemed calculating and though reckless at some points, brave and clever about whatever he was doing.  
The more he remembered, the more confused he grew about how insecure he was feeling now. Sam thought that the man he had been back then was so completely different from the one he was now. Hell, he wasn't even sure if he'd be able to face one of these monsters without wetting his pants …  
The train of thoughts ended abruptly as he found himself in front of the counter in the kitchen where the Jelly Beans and other sweets were stored.  
The young man rubbed over his face with a heavy sigh falling from his lips and reached up. The Jelly Beans were right in front of his nose, but he then decided to check out what else was in there.  
  
After rummaging around, he found a Butterfinger, Mars bars, and a single Twinkie.  
Since he couldn't decide which one he should eat, he took all three of them with him and moved his tired body back to the couch, where he slumped down.  
Sam cast a longing look towards the door. Somehow he felt bad now that he had practically thrown Dean out of his own house. He felt bad for feeling weird about having Dean close to him right now.  
  
It wasn't like Dean had something to do with what had happened in the flashback.  
Well, not directly at least.  
It was more about his father who was involved into all of this.  
  
Obviously the man had been hunting for Samuel Harvelle. And that he didn't know because he woke up with the man's barrel in his face. It was because of the flashback. “John Winchester,” Sam breathed and frowned at the fact that he had the feeling that this name was supposed to tell him something.  
In his flashback, the man had been luring him into a trap, somewhere in the woods.  
  
First it had looked as if Sam had been following the hunter and his companion into the woods for a werewolf. Well, not exactly one, but two to be correct. Sam had found out that they were hunting in a two-wolf-pack kind of thing, so those hunters were running into an unexpected scenario.  
How Sam knew? He had no clue; after all he couldn't remember everything. Only what he thought and felt during the flashback.  
Too soon, he found out that it had been a trap for him; that John Winchester knew that there were two wolves and not only one and that Sam would be there too.  
  
John had ordered his son to take the other way around the pond in the small clearing, where a mauled body was laying half in the water and half on the shore. Though, instead of heading to the checkpoint, he took off into the woods to get a drop on the omega.  
How? Samuel Harvelle had no clue; he only knew that was what happened. Which was even more disturbing.  
But what John Winchester didn't calculate was the werewolves coming for them.  
  
So John Winchester did truly get the drop on the young omega and let him walk straight into a bear's trap, tearing his skin and breaking his bone.  
Sam had no clue how he got out of that thing, but he did and he found himself in a hand to hand fight with the other hunter, who muttered something about that he wouldn't let him live long enough to screw this world up even more; that he'd stop him from bringing hell over earth and a whole lot other shit.  
  
And John Winchester nearly finished what he had come for: killing the omega, but only nearly. Until he heard his son yell in agony and pure horror.  
For a moment it looked like John was about to kill the man beneath him, but another cry was heard and his head whipped around, which Sam used to get out under the hunter and disarm him.  
  
After that everything went a bit fuzzy.  
  
There was blood and there were green eyes. There were screams, mud, and more blood. He could remember his right leg hurting like a bitch as he managed to hobble along and get into a better position to get a good shot at the werewolves.  
Okay, the older man looked as if he wasn't that bad off. The werewolf was dragging him away. Most likely into their den, so he'd have longer to live than the other one. The younger one seemed to need his help more urgently.  
Even if he was too late.  
  
So he shot the monster dead center into its heart with a silver bullet of his Taurus.  
When he managed to get over there, the young man was already unconscious, blood welling up from multiple claw wounds all over his body.  
Sam cast a look over his shoulder, glaring into the direction the wolf had taken off with the other hunter and hissed a curse as he put too much weight onto his broken ankle.  
  
Then, everything became hazy and he found himself sitting behind the wheel of a car, pushing down on the gas petal with a thick stick instead of his broken ankle. Beside him in the passenger’s seat was Dean Winchester, bloody, unconscious and going into shock, faster than he liked.  
He didn't know how, or why… but the very next moment he found himself standing in the doorway to a hospital room, looking at a man on a bed. Sam put more weight onto the crutch and sighed. He still needed to go back and get the other guy out of there.  
  
Even if the man had tried to kill him, Sam wasn't a murderer and this wasn't a fair fight. Leaving the hunter to the wolf would be as much as killing him with his own hands. And he couldn't do that.  
Besides. It'd all be different soon …  
  
Sam took the remote control into his left hand and turned the TV on. He didn't want to think about that right now. Wasn't he supposed to not remember these things? Wasn't that the reason why his old self had let them poke around in his head?  
Wasn't that it?  
  
Another sigh fell from the omega's lips and he ripped the mars bar open with his teeth, taking a huge chunk from the soft bar and starting to chew it slowly, tasting caramel melt together with chocolate and the soft filling on his tongue. 

  


… to be continued


	23. Missouri Moseley

Fields Of Jasmine  
Chapter 23 ~ Missouri Moseley 

John stared at his son in disbelief. "You are putting that bastard above your own flesh and blood?"  
Dean huffed out a breath. "You were always putting the case above your flesh and blood, dad. I'm building onto something solid at least." He gave him a hard glare, not leaving room for any further discussion.  
  
The hunter's son turned his back on him and walked towards the iron door.  
He knocked and the small window opened, behind which Bobby's wrinkled eyes appeared. The deadbolt was shoved aside and the door opened. Dean pushed it open further and stepped outside.  
  
"You can go,” Dean ground out as he looked back over his shoulder, addressing his father. "We're done here."  
"Dean,” John made an attempt to talk up, but all he got was a low growl.

~ ‘67 Chevrolet Impala ~

After his third time to the kitchen cabinet and about a dozen different sweets, Sam leaned back on the couch and rubbed his belly. He couldn't possibly suppress a burp, or a second one.  
He maybe shouldn’t have eaten the Twizzlers on top of everything else.  
  
And the Snickers.  
  
Sam eyed the heap of wrappers for a very long moment, deep in thought.  
Then he sighed.  
It had been definitely worth it.  
So worth it.  
A grin tugged on the omega's lips. 

~ ‘67 Chevrolet Impala ~

Dean came back soon after Sam had thrown out the wrappers into the basket under the sink and was sitting on the couch again, his legs pulled up tightly against his chest, remote in his left hand.  
  
The ex-hunter toed his boots off, before he went into the living room.  
Sam turned his head and greeted him with a warm smile. He looked so different from two hours ago. Mostly relaxed again and his eyes less haunted. Though, he still looked wary.  
  
Dean sauntered over towards the couch and took a seat at the far end, giving his mate space, just in case. But as soon as his butt hit the couch, Sam uncurled and laid down, his head coming down in Dean's lap.  
  
Sam snuggled into his thigh and his hand came up to rest beside his head on Dean's knee.  
The alpha couldn't but lay his hand on Sam's head and brush over the soft hair.  
He took it his mate was doing better, almost as if nothing had happened.  
His omega hummed contently and let his eyes drift closed.  
Then there was silence for a very long while.  
“What about your father?” Sam finally spoke up eventually.  
  
Dean blew out a long breath, debating with himself wherever he should tell Sam in detail, or if he'd leave it as sugarcoated facts. “We've cleared things up. He's going to leave.”  
There was another beat of silence.  
  
That wasn't quite what Sam meant. “Why did he come for me?”  
The alpha blew out another heavy breath and leaned back. “He knew about the parasite. About Orthos. He thought he needed to kill you to stop it from being born.”  
  
Sam nodded into Dean's thigh. “He thinks I'm evil, doesn't he?”  
Of course Sam instantly knew what kind of feelings motivated John Winchester, since Dean knew. It was their bond and they did not have the knowledge on how to hide what they thought and felt and how to keep it from transmitting to the other.  
  
Dean asked himself why they were supposed to talk about it, even when the two of them already knew what they already knew.  
“I set things straight,” he explained, his jaw set and his voice cool.  
  
Sam frowned and his eyes fluttered open at that statement, not quite sure what he should think about it, because it didn't quite feel as if things were set.  
“Nope, I didn't kill him, Sammy.” He instantly sensed the omega's distress and what he thought may have happened over in Bobby's house. “He's my dad after all,” he grumbled. “As bitter as it may be, he's my flesh and blood. But I made pretty clear that he's a dead man if he thinks he can get near you again.” Dean smiled reassuringly, but he didn't see fear in the younger male's features.  
  
It looked more like concern.  
  
“You don't have to worry about the old man, Sammy. Promise.” Dean whispered softly, as he pulled strands of dark hair through his fingers.  
“You look troubled,” Sam whispered back without looking at his soul mate. “It's bothering you. I can see that. It's like dark clouds are hovering over your head.” He turned his head and looked up at him. “And I don't like that.” The omega spoke.  
  
Dean tried to smile, but he couldn't quite manage an honest one. “I'm not mad at you, Sam.”  
“Sometimes when you get all silent and… things… it feels like you're mad.” Sam blinked up at the man with huge honest eyes.  
“But I'm not, kiddo.” The alpha smiled. “Okay? Not at you. I can't ever be mad at you.”  
Sam seemed to ponder that for a couple of minutes. “We haven’t had a real fight yet.”  
Dean chuckled. “You're pretty clever.”  
  
“For being such a screw up,” Sam added and looked back at the screen.  
“Don't ever say that.” Dean frowned. He laid his hand on the omega's chin and made him look him in the eyes. “Understand? You aren't a screw up.”  
“I'm different,” Sam insisted.  
“You are, but that doesn't make you a screw up,” Dean countered. “Being different means being special.”  
  
Sam stared at the TV. “Being special means you aren't good for anything else but one specific thing because you suck at everything else. I've been reading the fliers Amelia gave me and I think that's about it. They call you special because they don't want you to feel bad about being a screw up.”  
“That's not true.” He hadn't counted on Sam talking back that much. Sam had never talked back that much. He found himself taken aback by it and not able to think of a retort in time.  
  
He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it again. Sam had a valid reason for thinking that way and in some way he might have been right. But he sure as hell wasn't useless, nor a screw up.  
“Sam...”  
“Don't try to talk it into something sunny and flowery. We both know that ain't true.” His words were sharp at the edges.  
The alpha found himself flabbergasted once more, not sure about how to answer that.  
Then there was silence.  
  
“Maybe John's right,” Sam talked up again, sounding sad rather than annoyed. “When he went after me back then… he already knew that something would happen. He knew that I'm bad and that… that I shouldn't walk the earth.” The omega's voice broke. “He knew it. And now I know it, too. I understand why he went after me.” Sam blinked at the TV.  
Dean pondered his mate's words, not quite sure what he was talking about. He and his father had met a week ago for the first time. And they sure as hell hadn't been talking that much.  
“If I've known why, I think I wouldn't have fought him at all,” Sam added calmly. “It's my fault that Orthos's kid's alive. It's my fault that they got what they wanted. If it hadn't been for me…”  
  
Dean cleared his throat. “What the hell are you talking about?” he finally asked.  
Sam reminded himself that Dean didn't know, that he had no clue that Sam had met him and his father before, that Sam was there when the alpha and his father had gotten wounded by the werewolves.  
  
“I was there.” Sam's voice was thin. “In the woods. I don't remember how and why exactly, but I was there. I was following you and John. It was a trap. John wanted me to be there too… I think I followed you guys because John didn't pay attention to the warning I've gave him the night before.” Sam paused, thinking, trying to recall bits and pieces of memories that he hadn't quite seen in his flashback. “I've … I've no idea what I did, or how, I remember that I did something to warn you and him. But the next night you both took off from the motel and I knew you both would go into the woods and hunt that werewolf. So I followed.”  
  
Dean stopped petting the younger man's hair, but his hand kept resting right above his temple.  
  
Sam paused again. “And then everything went south. He jumped me. And then… I remember one of the wolves dragging your father away and me shooting the other one. I remember carrying you to the car and driving and… I remember standing in the door to your room at the hospital and watching you. I remember getting your father away from the wolf's den and … dumping him at a hospital two states over … I don't even know why I'd do that. Why I'd drive that far to get him help. I only remember that I had to be somewhere … I … Dean...”  
  
The omega took a deep inhale. “This person… I'm not him. I… I don't understand why and how he'd feel the way he felt in those flashbacks. I can't imagine being him...”  
  
The ex-hunter let that revelation sink in, as he remained silent. Millions of thoughts and memories flooding his mind, trying to find something – anything – that would prove Sam's story to him. But there was nothing. Dean couldn't remember anything in between getting clawed half to death and waking up at the hospital with Bobby by his side.  
  
The silence continued.  
  
“Garth gave me a folder with stuff when he came here.” Dean didn't look down at the younger man, though he felt him gaze up at him. “He thought to find out more about you than anyone else.” He still didn't look down, but felt the shift in Sam's mood and smelled the sour stench of horror mix into his mate's scent. “I didn't believe him at first. I thought he was reading more into your backstory than he should have...” He paused briefly. “But now… I'm not that sure anymore.”  
Sam continued to look up at him as if the alpha would say something real bad very soon.  
  
“I could show you the file, but I don't think that that's a good idea. Those flashbacks… with the seizures… that's not healthy.” The ex-hunter's gaze was trained at the TV, though he didn't pay the thing much attention. “I don't want to trigger them…” The older man seemed to think.  
Sam let him, continuing to stare up at him, until he eventually continued.  
  
“I know someone who'll be able to help with that,” Dean finally said. “She's a real mamma-bear and actually very nice. IF she likes you.” He pursed his lips, thinking for another moment. “I'll call Missouri. Maybe she can help.” … Since Jim couldn't, he continued in his mind.  
It wasn't that Jim wasn't good enough or something. It was more because no regular doctor would be able to find something. And on top of all of that, Sam couldn't tell those people – unknowing people – what he had endured and what his flashbacks were about.  
  
He pulled his hand away from Sam's head and the omega froze. The lack of warmth and comfort was gone from one moment to another and he – because of his own turmoil of thoughts and emotions – wasn't able to read the Winchester.  
  
Fear that Dean would reject him flared up in his mind and made his heart hammer against his chest achingly hard. He wasn't afraid that the alpha would lock him up, or even kill him. He feared that he wouldn't want him close to him anymore; that he'd think of Sam as some freak. A monster. Maybe even worse …  
The younger man's breath caught in his throat when Dean laid his hands on him and pushed him up into a sitting position. The ex-hunter looked him in the eyes, his gaze stern, and his jaw set.  
  
Then his hands were back in Sam's face, cupping his pale cheeks, warming them.  
“I don't want you to even THINK that you're a monster, Sam.” The alpha's voice was so unbelievably soft, in the very contrast to his features. “If what I think who you are is right, then you're a hero. Then you've saved hundreds of hunter's lives so far. You saved MINE without even knowing me. You've saved my father's, even when he tried to kill you.” He paused, waiting for Sam to give him a sign that he understood. Only when the younger man nodded, he continued: “I don't care what you were before. Or whomever you think you were. You're mine. Period.”  
  
He didn't add that even if Sam had been a crazy serial killer in the past, he couldn't care less. Whatever it was that Sam was seemingly afraid of to find out, they would deal with it and Dean would fix it. No matter what it was, or what it would do to Sam, they would fix it.  
The omega blinked tears away, trying not to burst into tears and sobs, which were scratching at the back of his throat.  
  
“You'll see. Missouri will know what to do. She'll know how to stop those flashbacks and she may even know what your visions mean.” Of course they already knew what they meant, but there were still bits and pieces missing and maybe, if she could bring back Sam's memories, they would get to know some more details and how to end it.  
  
Though, Sam was the most important.  
It was Sam who needed to be fixed.  
  
“You understand?” Dean's eyes were huge and clear as the stormy sea. He rubbed with his thump along Sam's cheekbone. “Just because my father thinks different, or even if Bobby thinks different. I don't care. And yeah. You are special. That's a fact. A fact you can be proud off. If what's in Garth's file about the person you've been before is true, I'm proud that you chose me. You understand? It means my…. you're a hero. You're a legend.” Dean smiled warmly at him. Of course, he had wanted to say mate, and they were mates, but technically they weren't yet.  
  
Mates – like Dean wanted to be with his omega – would have sex. And they hadn't that yet. So calling Sam his mate – in that specific way he meant it – was a no-go. If he said it out loud, he feared he would be disappointed if Sam didn't want THAT.  
  
Sam closed his eyes. Let the other man's words sink in. He curled his fingers around Dean's wrists, just holding onto them, no force in his touch.  
“I can't be him. I … the things I remember. The things I see… that's not me anymore.”  
  
“People change due the things they live through. Then you're a retired hero and I'm completely cool with that, too. You won't just disappear from one moment to other to save someone's life and get yourself in danger. I'm completely fine with that.” Now the ex-hunter was grinning cockily at his mate.  
Sam blew out a wet laugh and sniffed. He had to smile, too, now.  
  
“See?” Dean came closer, until their faces were mere inches apart. “I like you better when you're smilin',” he whispered against the omega's soft lips before he sealed them over his. 

~ ‘67 Chevrolet Impala ~

One man, one word.  
Dean called the psychic the same afternoon and she told him that she'd be there on Thursday.  
What actually meant that they had two days to go until help would arrive.  
That evening, Bobby called and let Dean know that John would stay for a couple of days. The old man sure hoped that he and John would deal and get back on track with their father-son relationship. Though, Robert Singer knew that it wasn't that easy. He knew both men too well to even suspect either of them going easy on the other one, nor that either John or Dean would give in.  
  
It wasn't in the Winchesters genes anyway.  
Bobby was pissed, too. Mostly because of John being such a dick and leaving Dean behind at that hospital instead of staying with him. But that was John.  
Everything for the job.  
It wasn't like John didn't care about his son.  
Only god knew what was going on in that head of his…  
  
Bobby's problem was that he knew John since about two months after his wife Mary and Dean's younger brother Adam had died in that fire. He knew what the man had gone through and what kept his drunken ass fighting.  
Which made it even harder to judge him. 

~ ‘67 Chevrolet Impala ~

The next day came and went, without Sam having a seizure all day. Dean was practically waiting for the other shoe to drop so he didn't leave his mate out under his sight the whole damn day.  
  
Now it was evening and they had had lunch only half an hour ago. Dean had watched Sam in wonder, Sam eating his serving and a second one, too. Obviously he liked Bobby's Spaghetti Bolognese with loads of beef and vegetables with those funny twisted noodles. Which were also from Bobby.  
Right now, they sat on the couch and were watching TV.  
  
Dean hadn't been up to much, anyway. His hip, thigh, knee, and calf were giving him hell since the very second he had opened his eyes this morning. Not even the Vicodin would help him dull the worst of his aches, so he had spent most of the day wherever lying or sitting around.  
Not even standing was a serious option.  
  
He first had tried to hide it from Sam, but the omega wasn't stupid. Besides the fact that he could scent how Dean was feeling, he also could clearly see it.  
There were deep lines of pain carving into his face.  
  
They had had planned to go out for dinner today. Dean had booked a table for the both of them in a nice Chinese restaurant in the center of Sioux Falls. He had planned to take Sam out and let both of them have a nice time. He wanted to show him something else as the small diner. He wanted to get him into contact with other places. Other people.  
  
So of course he had booked a table at the very back of Chai Tan's and had talked to Tan Bing – the owner, a small old lady in her eighties – informing her about their situation.  
Bobby once got rid of a ghost for her, so she was glad to help out and offer them a calm table.  
Yeah, Bobby Singer may was the town drunk to most of those people, but a hand full of them – the important ones – knew about his job and how he saved their lives every now and then.  
  
Dean had canceled the booking during the early afternoon, assuming that his leg wouldn't get any better.  
Sam had seemed kind of sad, but got over it pretty well, it looked like. The omega soon had a plan about what they would cook and what they would watch.  
Actually, his mate seemed relieved that it didn't work as planned.  
  
Sam insisted on cooking, too. Which ended in a complete disaster. He burnt two perfectly shaped rib eye steaks. And the potato wedges weren't fully grilled, too.  
  
The omega had been devastated – so to say. But not for long. Obviously he was one for solving problems – and fast.  
Bobby had literally been their savior, since they hadn't had anything left at home to eat.  
Dean had popped another Vicodin while Sam was cleaning up the mess in the kitchen.  
  
Currently, the alpha was lying on the couch, his upper body propped up against the side, his head tilted back, his legs in Sam's lap, who massaged his calf carefully, which actually brought some relief to his aching muscles and joints. Those giant hands felt unbelievably gentle and tender while prodding into the usually hurting areas.  
  
The ex-hunter hummed low and let his eyes flutter shut. Sam smiled to himself while he watched the Winchester and wandered further up towards Dean's thigh.  
“You're perfect,” Dean murmured. “That's… awesome.”  
  
Sam grinned from one ear to the other. For once he had the feeling that he could actually do something useful. If it meant that he had to massage his alpha's leg the whole upcoming night he'd do it.  
Dean Winchester made another comfortable sound in the back of his throat and chest, which sounded a lot like a low rumble. Though, he seemed to get uncomfortable, as he started to shift every now and then.  
Sam stole glances at the ex-hunter until he had enough. Even when both of them seemed to enjoy their time in front of the TV, Sam sensed the ex-hunter's discomfort.  
  
“What do you say? You wanna head to bed?” Sam let go of the alpha's denim-clad calf and stroke over it fondly.  
Dean tilted his head up, neck stiff as hell, shoulders tense and sore. He stretched his arms over his head and flexed his muscles. The alpha squinted at the clock beside the TV and groaned.  
“Ain't that late yet,” he grumbled in retort. It read half past eight p.m.  
  
“I'm tired.” Sam truly sounded exhausted. “Let’s have an early night, huh? Get showered and… in bed.” He wiggled his eyebrows at him and poked Dean in the side, batting long lashes at the other man – obviously trying to be sexy.  
Well, Sam definitely was sexy, but somehow it looked a bit funny.  
  
“Well then.” Dean made an uncomfortable sound when he sat up awkwardly. “Lets get a shower and in bed, baby boy.”  
Sam leaned in, his hands on Dean's neck and his lips sealed over Dean's, pushing him back into the back rest of the couch. The next moment, Sam was in the alpha's lap. To the ex-hunter's surprise, Sam was all tongue and teeth and a bit demanding.  
The alpha let him have his way and kissed back, biting the omega's bottom lip.  
When they parted, both were breathlessly panting into each other's mouths.  
  
“What was that for?” the ex-hunter mumbled.  
“I wanted to.” Sam smiled mischievously.  
Dean's gaze searched his face. “Yeah?”  
“Yeah … Baby.” Of course the omega had to grow bold.  
The alpha tilted his head back and cocked an eyebrow at the younger man. “You callin' me baby?” There was a hint of disbelief in his voice.  
“You call me nicknames all the time.” Sam leaned back and cocked an eyebrow, too, mirroring his mate.  
  
“Doesn't mean that you're allowed to call me nicknames.” Dean was a dork, and sometimes he could be pretty domestic. He even sounded serious about that. Only the slightly amused glint in his eyes let on, that he didn't mean it all that serious though.  
“How about… I call you sugar plum?” And of course Sam couldn't or wouldn't shut up. “Or…” He said as he was thinking.  
“You call me another name, and I'll spank your perky ass raw, sweetheart. Trust me on this.” Dean shoved him off his lap and tackled him backwards, so that Sam was lying flat on his back, giggling and snorting.  
“You'd really spank me?” Sam didn't believe one word.  
  
Dean crawled over the man and kissed along his jaw. “Maybe I would,” he breathed into Sam's ear. “Maybe I wouldn't.”  
Sam nudged the older man in the ribs. “You wouldn't.” He had to giggle again, when Dean's finger prodded into his side.  
“Only if you asked,” Dean snorted and dodged another one of Sam's poke-attacks. He gave him a promising gaze.  
Their gazes locked over the short distance. Both men stilled, panting slightly.  
Sam bucked his hips up against Dean's and bit his lower lip.  
  
He bucked up into his mate's crotch again and wrapped his long legs around Dean's waist loosely, pulling him in close. Sam tilted his head to the side and licked over his lower lip, blinking his long lashes at the alpha above him.  
“Sammy,” Dean moaned and squeezed his eyes shut tightly, trying to withstand the urge to grind back down into him.  
“Yeah?” the omega breathed.  
  
Dean's eyes opened. “C'mon, baby boy.” Dean smiled down at him warmly. “Let’s grab a shower and head to bed.”  
The omega gazed up at him partly curious and confused, his expression bleeding into something different. More irritated.  
“I don't think you're ready for this,” Dean finally spoke up, his voice calm and soothing. He knew exactly what Sam was thinking. What he was feeling. What he wanted. And he'd be a bad liar if he said that he didn't feel the same, that he didn't want Sam to … do THAT. But he also knew that Sam wasn't ready, that he couldn't be ready.  
  
Not after all the things that happened to him and not after enduring that kind of abuse Sam had been through.  
Sam's cheeks flushed and he looked aside, embarrassed. He might not wanted to have sex, per se, but he wanted to give Dean something more than just rubbing against each other and touching through fabric.  
At least he had tried …  
  
“Okay.” He wouldn't even look up at Dean He felt so ashamed for even thinking about offering that to his mate. All of a sudden he felt dirty and… oh god… like a slut. Like he was offering this to Dean because he thought he had to pay him.  
Well, it actually was like that though.  
Sam wanted this. Okay, he may wasn't sure if he really wanted to get naked in front of the alpha and those things. But he wanted to try. He wanted to know how it'd feel and … maybe he was only curious.  
But then again…  
  
“Don't do this, Sammy.” Dean stroked his face, still wearing this calm smile. “I want it to be right, okay? Besides… I couldn't do shit with my hip and knee right now, so...” He winked at Sam and put on that cocky smirk of his.  
He drew Sam's gaze at him when he laid his fingertips on the omega's cheek and brushed over it. “I don't want you to do it that way. Not when you think you take it as a way to pay me for giving you a place to live. We're equals in this.”  
It was frightening how the alpha could look into Sam's mind and take away his secrets and fears – just like that.  
Sam gave him a jerky nod.  
Dean was right. He might want to try the one thing or another, but he wasn't entirely sure if he wouldn't freak out and freak Dean out by freaking out. So maybe his alpha was right.  
  
Maybe they should take it slow – as if they hadn't taken it slow so far, had they?  
“Shower?” Sam asked and gave him a nervous smile.  
“Together?” Dean asked back.  
They haven't showered together so far. Hell, they haven't even seen each other naked yet either. Though, this might was a good start.  
Sam’s eyes widened in anticipation. “But...” His face fell the very next moment, his scent becoming a bit sour. He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it again.  
  
“We're taking it slow, sunshine,” Dean assured him and sat up with a groan. “What'd you say?” It wasn't like he wanted to make Sam take a shower with him. He had rather meant it as a compromise.  
Sam hesitated. “What I ..,” his voice broke, “... I… Maybe…”  
  
“You'll see it's nice. I'll make it good.” Dean's voice had dropped an octave. “I won't even touch you, okay? Just showering and nothing else. I won't even look.” Okay, the last promise may was a bit of completely impossible given that Sam was one hell of a handsome looker.  
The omega searched his alpha's face for quite some time before giving him a jerky nod.  
Why the hell was he cool with getting naked on the couch with Dean, but not in the shower? Actually it was the same thing, right? So why would he freak out over something like that?  
  
Dean then got up – rather awkwardly – and guided Sam into their bedroom, where he switched the lights on. The ex-hunter limped to the closet and retrieved two pajama bottoms and two tees, while Sam stood next to the bathroom door waiting.  
The omega's hands were shaking slightly and he swallowed thickly when Dean limped past him and into the bathroom, where he put the clothes in the sink where they wouldn't get wet. He then stepped back outside and grasped Sam's hand, tugging him with inside him.  
Dean turned the hot water on and then started to strip, while Sam only stood there and stared at him with wide eyes.  
They had NEVER gotten undressed or dressed in front of each other.  
  
It wasn't like Sam didn't like what he saw. He liked it very much. All tanned skin stretching over muscles and a bit of baby-fat under Dean's belly.  
Dean was down to his boxers when he gazed up at his fully dressed mate. First he looked thoughtful, but then there grew a warm smile all over his face, and adoration in his eyes and he straightened up. He walked over to Sam and let his hands drop onto the man's waist.  
“C'mon. I won't bite. Promise.” And he wouldn't say more. Dean simply turned around, brushed his boxers off, and sauntered to the shower stall, where he pulled the curtain aside and stepped in.  
  
Sam stood there, like frozen, for a very long time.  
Eventually, the omega started to shed his clothes too, until each piece of fabric was gone. He stepped out of his boxer-briefs and made a hesitant step towards the shower. Then he stopped again, thinking.  
  
He could still back out. That was why Dean left him to it and disappeared into the shower in the first place.  
Sam's lips twitched. The alpha was really cute and patient about all of his issues …  
Finally – eventually – Sam managed to overcome himself and follow Dean into the shower stall.  
  
Then…  
  
…. Nothing happened. The both of them showered, switching places under the hot stream of water, until the both of them were squeaky clean. Each one dried himself off and got dressed, stealing gazes at each other in the process, of course, because neither of them was able to hold off from the other one.  
They then slipped into their bed and under the covers after switching the lights off. Sam curled up against Dean's side, since the ex-hunter couldn't lie on either his left or right side when his leg hurt. But he had an arm under Sam's neck and held him close. 

~ ‘67 Chevrolet Impala ~

Dean eventually fell asleep. So did Sam.  
Though not for long.  
Two hours into the night, the omega awoke to whimpers and pain-filled moans from beside him. First he hadn't realized what it was that ripped him out of his sleep, but when he felt Dean's sweat soaked shirt against his bare forearm, and when he felt the shivering, he knew.  
Another whimper fell from the ex-hunter's lips.  
  
“Dean?” Sam murmured sleep-drunken.  
The ex-hunter mumbled something unintelligible.  
“I'll go get your pills.” Sam sniffed and struggled to free himself from the messed up sheets. He then rolled out of bed and made his way through the darkness into the kitchen, searching blindly through the counter above the sink, he eventually found what he was looking for.  
  
Dean always kept a bottle of his medicine there, just in case he wouldn't find the one he carried around all the time. Sam shook two of them into his open palm. He then got a small bottle of water and unscrewed it before he made his way back into the bedroom.  
Dean was obviously still asleep, uncomfortable and uneasy, as far as Sam could see. He padded over the wooden floor right to beside Dean's side of the bed and put the water onto the nightstand.  
  
He himself, still sleep-dazed too, didn't think about giving a guy a warning. Sam bowed over his mate, his eyes half open.  
“Dean,” Sam said hoarsely and laid the hand in which he wasn't holding the pills, on the alpha's cheek. He was about to rub with his thump over the older man's cheekbone, just like he had done it to Sam so many times to comfort him, when it happened.  
Sam hadn't been fast enough.  
  
Of course, he didn't know about the rules when it came to waking a hunter in the middle of the night. At least not that he could remember them anyway.  
Surely it wasn't a good idea to hover over him. So close, barely inches apart. Nor was it his best shot, to stroke the man's face, even when it was an attempt to soothe and comfort him. After all, even if Dean Winchester wasn't a hunter of the supernatural anymore, you couldn't do THAT. It had something to do with instincts, sharpened due years of dealing with creatures that'd sneak up on you while you'd be asleep.  
  
A sharp intake of air was heard.  
The sound of a knife sliding out from its sheath and cutting through the air, disturbing the peaceful silence of the night.  
Silver gleamed up in the spare light of the half moon, that's beams were shining through the white curtains.  
And what followed was a surprised, though definitely pained cry, jolting the hunter right back into the here and now.  
  
“Sammy,” Dean Winchester gasped as he caught sight of a pair of terrified and pained huge hazel eyes staring at him in disbelief. 

… to be continued

I know I'm a mad woman. And I'm sorry (not sorry) for leaving you like this. Some of you asked me for more action … so it's nothing major, okay? That much I can tell you guys …

TEASER:

Chapter 24 ~ Visitors

“Talk to me.” Dean's voice broke, his hands shaking.  
The omega wouldn't answer. He just stared wide-eyed at Dean, holding his breath.  
“Are you hurt?” he demanded to know. “Sam?”  
  
Sam blew out a shaky breath. He didn't know. Was he actually hurt? Did Dean… No… he didn't feel anything right now. There was no pain, was there?  
Sam blinked up at those incredibly green circles. There were freckles and lines of terror and panic around them. He opened his mouth to answer “no”, but he couldn't muster a single word.  
  
“Sammy,” Dean repeated over and over again, as his hands searched him frantically. “Shit, Talk to me, baby boy.”


	24. Visitors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   
>  THANKS to my always awesome BETA jojo :)  
> Thanks to everyone who reviewed so far!  
> I'm sorry if I forgot to thank you & answer your reviews. I'm pretty busy with training-stuff (sadly not as a hunter). 
> 
> please IGNORE the endnote on this chapter. I have no clue how to remove the existing one!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Road So far:  
>   
> The sound of a knife sliding out from its sheath and cutting through the air, disturbing the peaceful silence of the night.  
> Silver gleamed up in the spare light of the half moon, that's beams were shining through the white curtains.  
>   
> And what followed was a surprised, though definitely pained cry, jolting the hunter right back into the here and now.  
> “Sammy,” Dean Winchester gasped as he caught sight of a pair of terrified and pained huge hazel eyes staring at him in disbelief.

Fields Of Jasmine  
Chapter 24 ~ Visitors

The pills fell from Sam's hand and bounced over the floor.  
"Sammy,” Dean gasped, his eyes wide with horror. The knife fell from his hands and hit the floor loudly. He bolted upright into a sitting position and scrambled out of bed and towards the huddled up figure.  
  
His omega was on the floor, back pressed up against the wall under the small window.  
“Sam,” Dean breathed, wincing as he put too much weight on his aching leg. “Shit, Sammy.” He sank to his knees before his mate and tore the curtains apart, in an attempt to get more light into the room.  
  
It did nothing like that, though. The room was barely illuminated even with the open curtains, especially not from where they were on the floor.  
Dean's hands started to search the younger man's body the very next second, looking for signs of warm stickiness.  
“Talk to me.” Dean's voice broke, his hands shaking.  
The omega wouldn't answer. He just stared wide-eyed at Dean, holding his breath. Not that the alpha could make out anything but his omega's dark silhouette against the even darker wall.  
  
“Are you hurt?” he demanded to know. “Sam?”  
Sam blew out a shaky breath. He didn't know. Was he actually hurt? Did Dean… No… he didn't feel anything right now. There was no pain, was there?  
Sam blinked up at those incredibly green circles, which he could make out easily, since a single beam of moonlight shone in Dean's face. There were freckles and lines of terror and panic around them. He opened his mouth to answer “no,” but he couldn't muster a single word.  
  
“Sammy,” Dean repeated over and over again, as his hands searched him frantically. “Shit, Talk to me, baby boy.”  
So far he hadn't felt anything wet and warm and sticky.  
Suddenly the ex-hunter's hands were in Sam's face, cupping his cheeks. “Are you okay?”  
  
Sam gave him a shaky nod, biting his bottom lip. “I… I didn't mean to scare you… I… I brought your pills.” He gazed at the floor beside of him, his blown pupils not even trying to focus. “I… I think I lost them.” Sam raised his hand and stared at his open, empty palm for a very long minute. “I… I… I lost your pills.” There was a hint of panic and disbelief in his voice.  
“Sam. I don't care about the Vicodin. Did I hurt you?” Dean made him look him in the eyes. “Did I?” Dean's mouth went dry, when his mate's dilated pupils and narrowed iris gazed back at him.  
  
Not that the ex-hunter could possibly SEE him. It was rather a very clear sensing he received from the younger man.  
Other than that, he could also feel it. Sam's skin became clammy.  
One of Dean's hands slid down to his neck, where they rested above his pulse.  
Sam's heart was racing.  
Typical signs of shock.  
  
“Okay, let’s get you onto the bed and laid down, okay? Legs up on a pillow.” Dean stared at the dark area that had to be Sam's face.  
Sam made a small sound. “I'm good… I… I'm fine, Dean. 'M not hurt.” The omega sniffed and leaned forward a bit. “I… I need to find your pills… I lost them.” There wasn't really any strength in his words. They were a breathless whisper at best.  
“Sam. It's fine. I'm gonna look for them.”  
“No… no… I've… you're hurtin'.”  
  
Dean didn't answer that. He simply leaned forward and gathered the omega into his arms, holding him tight. “It's okay. It's not that bad.” Of course, it was really bad, but it was even worse that he had nearly killed Sam that he had been close to hurting him. “You went to get my pills. That's pretty nice of you.”  
Dean tried to smile, but failed miserably. The horror of the possibility that he could’ve hurt Sam stuck in his bones. The shock that he could have killed him… There was no expression for this. It made him feel sick to his stomach.  
  
Sam's gaze drifted aside for a moment. “I can get you new ones.”  
“I'm sorry, Sammy.” He told himself to never again store a knife under his pillow. Not while he was with Sam. Not when his whole damn cabin was warded and his gun in the nightstand. He'd rather take the risk of getting jumped in his sleep, than hurting, or even killing Sam with his own hands because of a nightmare… or… just because his instincts told him to.  
Dean squeezed him a bit tighter.  
“You think you can lie down on the bed for me? Let’s get your legs up on a pillow or something and I'll get the both of us something to drink and myself a Vicodin?”  
Sam seemed coherent enough to understand and nodded.  
“Good.” Dean smiled at him. “Let’s get up. The floor's not comfy.”  
  
He nodded into his alpha's shoulder and put his hands to his left and right on the floor. There was something warm and slick under his right palm as he did so.  
Dean let go of him and pulled back, sitting back on his haunches before he got to his feet with a grunt.  
Sam raised his right hand in front of himself, into the beam of moonlight, to see what made it wet. Curiously, he stared at the scarlet wetness covering his palm and fingers.  
Dean's smile faltered the very moment he followed Sam's motion with his gaze and a cold, dark pit started to grow deep down in his guts at the sight of blood.  
  
Sam's blood.  
  
The omega looked up with a questioning gaze and blinked.  
Dean limped to the bedside table and switched the light on. When he turned back around, a gasped “fuck” fell from his lips. He was back at Sam's side and on his knees in an instant. Not caring about the pinch in his hip and the violent protest of his knee and calf.  
The omega's face was pale. His pupils dilated and irises clouded.  
The alpha took Sam's hand in his and turned it around, revealing an ugly looking cut along Sam's lower arm, right along the ulna.  
Damn, he got him good with the fucking knife. It was a deep gash, parting skin and flesh, good five inches long.  
It was still bleeding.  
  
Sam stared at the wound, completely surprised himself. Only now that the omega saw it, he started to feel the slight throb and sting and the burn as cool air hit the wound.  
“Shit. Sammy. I'm so fuckin' sorry.” Dean's eyes were tearing up, his lower lip quivering, his voice raw with emotion.  
“It's not that bad.” The younger man tore his gaze away from the wound. He barely felt it anyway. So why the fuss?  
“It damn well is,” Dean hissed through gritted teeth. “I hurt you.” … I could've killed you.  
  
As good as the alpha tried to push his own pain aside, it didn't work. His damn leg wouldn't stop hurting and instead of just shutting the fuck up so that he could concentrate on Sam's injury, his body decided to work against him.  
“It wasn't your fault,” Sam mumbled. He’d never seen the ex-hunter like that ever, not since he was with him.  
The omega decided that he didn't like the way Dean looked when his eyes got all shiny with unshed tears, the way his face contorted in emotional agony and the waves of self-hate and guilt which radiated from the older man.  
  
“We need to stop the bleeding,” the ex-hunter mumbled to himself.  
He avoided Sam's eyes, not able to look him in the eyes, when he turned around to reach for the sheet covering their bed.  
“I can do it myself.” Sam was about to pull his arm away so he'd be able to stand up and head into the bathroom where he'd take care of it.  
But Dean held his arm tight and shook his head. “You stay put. Your mind hasn't recognized that your body's actually in shock. And when it does, you're going to pass out.”  
Sam tilted his head to the side, pondering this. He didn't feel any different than before. Okay, he might felt fuzzy and… weird… but he sure didn't feel like passing out. It didn't even hurt.  
  
“It doesn't even hurt, Dean. It's okay.” Sam smiled a bit now.  
The ex-hunter shook his head again, his forehead creased in deep lines of worry. “I said you stay here.” He gave him a pointed look. He then pulled the sheet off of the bed and covered the little pool of blood on the floor with it. Then he ripped his tee shirt over his head and wrapped it around Sam's lower arm.  
“Put pressure on it,” he said. He sounded stern and not in the mood for discussion. So Sam didn't tell him that he could handle this himself.  
Instead Sam nodded and watched Dean getting to his feet with creases of pain and guilt riding his features. His Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed a grunt. “I'll be right back. Don't move.”  
  
Sam watched him leave and hurry into the kitchen. He knew it was his fault. If it wasn’t for his stupidity, Dean wouldn't feel guilty, and he wouldn't be sitting bleeding on the floor.  
It was all his fault.  
Minutes later, Dean came back with a first aid kit and a glass of water. He still wouldn't look Sam in the eyes, though. Instead he pushed Sam's hand away from the shirt and started to unwrap his arm.  
When the soaked fabric was gone, Dean laid the items of the first aid kit out on the floor beside him with shaky fingers. He took gauze from it and soaked it in antiseptic fluid. Then he started to clean the gash.  
Sam watched him in wonder.  
  
It still didn't hurt, which surprised the omega massively. Then he remembered that it mostly didn't hurt in the beginning. Shock was what Dean had called it.  
Dean tilted his head to the side and stole a concerned glance at the younger man. Sam was supposed to… to at least whimper. That cut had to hurt like a damn bitch.  
But he didn't.  
  
Sam started to feel dizzy and felt his hands tremble slightly. The longer he watched Dean's ministrations, the less comfortable he felt. It was a weird feeling, as if slowly but surely, his mind became dislocated from his body and holding onto it was getting harder each passing second.  
“Dean,” Sam croaked out, he himself not understanding why his voice broke and why his voice sounded so faint. “... I think I don't feel so good...”  
Dean's hands were shaky, too. His breaths came out in short, pained puffs through his nose. By all that was holy, he couldn't concentrate on the task at hand. He'd need to sew the gash closed, but with the way his hands shook it wouldn't be possible.  
“Hospital” was the next thing he thought.  
  
He'd need to take Sam to the hospital and get the wound looked at there. After all, there could be more damage than noticeable at first glance. Okay, Sam could move his fingers and hand, but that didn’t mean that he didn't get hurt worse. People walked around with broken legs when in shock.  
As if on cue, the front door to the cabin opened and hurried footfalls were heard.  
“Dean!” Bobby's gruff voice echoed through the living room. He seemed to have it urgent with whatever pressing matter made him come over in the middle of the night in his pajamas and sandals. “You guys need to turn on the TV! Jody called me!”  
  
As bad as Dean wanted to obey the indirect order of his surrogate father, he actually didn't care.  
“Bobby! Bedroom!”, he hollered back. Bobby would be capable of stitching his mate up too. The man was better than any doctor could ever be. Given the constant and frequent use of his suture kit.  
“Holy shit, boys,” the gruff hunter gasped as he stopped dead in his tracks right in the doorway. “What the hell happened?”  
Eventually, Bobby managed to get his butt moving again and kneeled down beside Sam's other side, gazing at Sam and then at Dean.  
Both men looked like shit. To be honest, he wasn't sure which one looked worse right now and which of them he was supposed to help first.  
Okay, not quite though.  
  
He noticed just now that there was blood smeared over the ex-hunter's hands, Sam's pajama pants, and lower arm.  
“Is that blood?” Of course it was blood, he knew it, but he also had to hear it from either Dean or the omega. When he bowed forward, he got a glimpse of what seemed to be an angry gash along the omega's forearm.  
  
Bobby also noticed Dean Winchester's shaky hands, as he wiped a wet gauze pad over it, tainting it red.  
Sam's eyes found the gruff hunter's face and he tilted his head to the side. The lines of his face soft and with a hint of fear.  
“It was an accident,” Sam spoke up, his voice hoarse. “He didn't mean it Bobby. It was my fault; mine. Dean didn't mean to,” he started to babble. “It was an accident.”  
The older hunter swallowed and gazed at Dean, who didn't dare to look up at him at all. Of course it had been an accident. There was no way Dean could hurt the omega, he was sure of that. Besides… he knew what kind of accidents could happen, if you lived with an hunter – and shared a bed with him.  
  
That had been why he had abandoned the gun-under-the-pillow idea after he had been close to shooting Karen one night.  
He had felt terrible after that. Had slept in the living room for two weeks straight, instead of the same bed as his wife. Hell, if it hadn't been for Karen giving him shit for it one day, their relationship might not have made it.  
So yes. Bobby Singer understood.  
  
“I know, kiddo.” Bobby kneeled down beside him and laid his hand on Dean's shoulder. “Let me have a look.” He took Sam's arm from Dean's grasp and turned it slightly to take in the damage.  
Dean backed away instantly, holding his breath, his hands still shaking.  
Sam was searching the older hunter's face for any signs that he was mad at either of them, or that he thought that Sam had been lying. He wouldn't want Bobby to be mad at Dean, or give him hell.  
  
“It's okay, right?” Sam sniffed, still staring at the old man. “It's not bad.”  
“Nah. Nothing we can't fix.” The gruff hunter gave him a small wrinkled smile.  
Slowly but surely, the wound started to throb and sting a bit more and there was this weird kind of burn. Sam hissed, when Bobby turned his arm a bit more.  
“We're gonna have to stitch that up.” Bobby bit his lip as he gazed at Dean, who stared at the gaping wound, which was still oozing blood. “I'll go and get something to numb the area around the gash so it won't hurt too much while I sew you up.” His gaze fell on the shirt in Sam's lap. Okay, it was already soaked in blood, but that didn't matter. They'd have to sterilize and wash the wound out once more before stitching it up anyway. So he took it and wrapped it back around Sam's lower arm.  
  
“C'mon, son. Put pressure on that. I'm gonna get the Xylocaine shots. I think I might still have some in the house.” He winked at Dean, who obeyed instantly. Bobby noticed the ex-hunter's dampened mood, but now wasn't the time to talk about it.  
First they needed to stitch Sam up, and then Dean needed his Vicodin. And in the morning, they'd talk about this, in peace and when the worst shock was over, when Dean had time to think about it himself.  
  
“It was an accident, Bobby.” Sam's gaze drifted from Dean – who wrapped his strong fingers around Sam's lower arm – and then up at the older hunter, asking him without words to say something too.  
“Of course it was. Dean wouldn't wanna hurt you.” There was the faintest of brushes down Dean's back by a calloused hand and a slight squeeze of his shoulder, a motion that told the alpha that Bobby meant it.  
Though, Dean refused to look at his old friend or his mate, so ashamed was he.  
When Bobby was gone, Sam trained his gaze at Dean for a long while, thinking about saying something. But he didn't know what. Obviously, his mate was terrified by what had happened.  
  
So instead of opening his mouth and risking saying shit, he extended his good hand and laid it on Dean's cheek.  
The older man's eyes fluttered shut and leaned instinctively into the touch. Though, Sam had the feeling that if it weren’t for the fact that he had to put pressure on Sam's wound, he would have turned away from the touch again.  
“I'm not mad,” Sam whispered.  
“You should be,” the alpha whispered back.  
  
“I love you.” It was the first time either of them was saying it out loud. “I can't be mad at you, Dean. Because I think I really love you. I don't want you to feel sad. It wasn't your fault.”  
“Don't say that,” The ex-hunter swallowed a sob, his eyes were tearing up again, and he bit his lower lip to stop it from quivering. “You shouldn't say things like that.”  
“I say what I mean. And I know what mates are and that some just won't feel like this. But I do. Even if you don't believe me. I love you. I want you to know that.” Sam raised both eyebrows. His hand slid from Dean's cheek and landed on top of those who were putting pressure on the wound. “I …”   
“Sammy. Stop,” Dean's voice broke. “Not now, okay?”  
  
The omega only nodded and leaned back against the wall. He let his hand slip from Dean's and rested it in his lap, blowing out a shuddering breath.  
“You're doin' okay?” Another shuddering breath, and the slight tremble of Sam's arm made him look up and fix Sam with his gaze for the first time since they sat on the floor.  
“Jus' … jus' feelin' a bit funny. 's all.” Sam's eyes were on half-mast. “Bit dizzy.”  
“Maybe we should try to get you on the bed, huh? Get your legs up in the air.” Dean was utterly serious.  
But on Sam's face, a mischievous grin bloomed. “Dirty little hunter.” He chuckled.  
  
The alpha didn't think that it was funny. At all. Not in this situation. “Stupid idiotic omega,” he grumbled in response.  
Sam's forehead furrowed. His gaze sharpened for a millisecond and a flash of hurt crossed his face. As soon as the words were over his lips, he could've bit off his own tongue. That was definitely the wrong call to make.  
He could feel Sam's hurt. See how deep his words cut into the omega's soul without actually looking at him. 

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

An hour later, Sam's arm was stitched up and he was in bed. Dean had two Vicodin in his system and was sitting on the edge of the bed, back turned at Sam, who was barely awake anymore. Though he held onto consciousness, not wanting to fall asleep with a mad Dean at his side, because he had no idea what the alpha would do.  
The pain in his arm was dulled by the Xylocaine shots around the stitched up area, but the layers of flesh beyond hurt pretty bad. What hurt even more than the cut, were Dean's words, burning deep down in his soul.  
  
Calling him stupid. Idiotic. The way he had said the words, as if he was disgusted by Sam… He couldn't quite wrap his mind around that.  
Dean had never called him names so far. And he hadn't talked since back then to his mate. The Vicodin barely did anything to dull the pain. It was agonizing. He wasn’t sure if it was his leg hurting more, or the way he had treated Sam …  
Eventually, Sam lost his fight against fatigue and his eyes fell closed.  
Dean continued sitting on the bed, head in hands.  
  
Bobby watched the young ex-hunter sitting there, looking miserable. He stole a glance at the sleeping omega in the bed, before he went over there and touched Dean's shoulder. The alpha squinted up at his friend.  
Maybe they'd have the talk tonight, though.  
“Go get a shirt and meet me in the kitchen, son,” he said calmly. “I think we need to talk.”  
Dean only nodded. “Give me ten.”  
He did.  
  
The alpha got a fresh shirt and limped into the kitchen. At least it didn't feel like someone wanted to rip his leg off anymore.  
He sat down at the kitchen at the table, right across from Bobby and two glasses of whiskey.  
Bobby opened his mouth to say something, but Dean raised his hand to stop him.  
  
“Listen, boy. Whatever you think. DON'T,” he said anyway. Because he was the older one, he was the one with more experience – in most of everyday life's aspects. So he talked. He told Dean how he nearly shot his wife, back in the day. He talked about how it had felt. It wasn’t his favorite piece of cake, either, since he was a damn hunter and sure as hell not into that touchy-feely stuff.  
  
But he did it anyway.  
And Dean listened, not disturbing Bobby's tale once because he saw the importance behind it. Even when he wouldn't admit it, listening to Bobby's story helped. Maybe it wouldn't be now, or tomorrow, but he'd see – what happened tonight – differently.  
“I could've killed him,” Dean mumbled, turning the tumbler between his fingers.  
“But you didn't, son. He seems to have forgiven you.” Bobby leaned back with a sigh. “You should forgive yourself, too. I know you can't do that now. But in a week or two maybe.”  
“I've called him a stupid idiot,” Dean added.  
  
“Explain it to him; he'll understand. I can promise you that.” The older man rubbed over his face. “You're an idiot sometimes, you know that?”  
Dean gave him a dark look. Of course he knew that. Otherwise he wouldn't be sitting in the kitchen at two in the morning and talking with Bobby about that shit. “I know.”  
“Good. Would've been worse if you didn’t.” The man clapped on his own knees and got to his feet with a groan. “Time to go back to sleep. The Salvage doesn't run herself.”  
Dean gave him a thankful nod.  
  
“Get rid of that knife of yours. Put it somewhere – and not under your pillow. And go to sleep dammit. You look like a lovesick girl. All red eyed and...” That maybe was too much. The older hunter knew that Dean loved him and that he'd go to hell and back for him. And he loved him, too, like a son. Only telling him wasn't that easy. So he did it the best way he could possibly manage… by just being there and listening and telling him that he looked like a girl.  Dean would get it anyway. He was sure about that.  
“And you look like the bearded lady you are,” Dean snapped back, telling Bobby that he was glad to have Bobby to talk about stuff like that.  
  
Dean Winchester pondered the thought of heading back to bed, but he didn't.  
Instead he drank another tumbler, filled to the brim with whiskey, and then lay down on the couch, staring through the darkness onto the ceiling and thinking about how he was supposed to make this good again.  
  
Obviously he was the best at hurting people just in the right way to drive them away from him. Well, he might not drive Sam away, but he sure as hell had hurt him emotionally. 

…to be continued


	25. No Clue How To Name This One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANKS to MK Knight for betaing :D

Fields Of Jasmine  
Chapter 25 ~ No clue how to name this one

Meg was sitting in a chair at the table. Raw meat and organs spread out all over it. The biting scent of death and intestines filling the whole room.  
Snarls and whimpers were heard from where Orthos' children were laying all over the wooden floor. All black fur and white eyes.  
  
The one laying closest to the fireplace made a purring sound. He blinked his eyes open lazily and caught sight of Meg staring right at him.  
Her hand was covered in bandages and her shirt was ripped open on her left shoulder. The blood had dried and her vessel had been healed. But…it had been her job to get them ready, and all of them were … except for one.  
  
She told herself that she should've known that this one would cause problems. There was always one making problems. That bastard had tried to rip her heart out. It had bit her and ripped into her tender vessel's flesh as she had tried to discipline it with the whip.  
  
She had TRIED.  
Then finally, after getting control back, she had managed to get it back on its chain.  
There'd be no way to make them break the 13 seals (with Azazel's ritual) when one of them wasn't in the game. That one – number 13 – was a stubborn, useless bastard with its own head.  
Not only once it had tried to get away.  
  
But it was no use. The area around this house was protected and sealed. There was no getting away. No breaking out.  
She still had time. Twelve of them were ready to do their job. And this one – with the faint hint of hazel in its white eyes – would also be ready soon. Otherwise she'd pay with her black soul for failing her masters.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Dean Winchester was a wreck.  
He didn't sleep that night, nor did he manage to get into a comfortable position on the couch. Of course he didn't. Because he didn't allow himself to have it.  
Not after what had happened last night.  
  
So he was up and about at six in the morning and popped another Vicodin to dull the searing pain in his entire leg. He made coffee first and drank close to the whole pot within two hours, spiking each mug with a shot (or three) of Bourbon.  
He checked on Sam every now and then too, but didn't come too close.  
  
The omega was still in the same position as he had been when he and Bobby had put him to bed. On his back. Bandaged arm propped up on a pillow. Snoring softly through the bigger part of the morning.  
Dean thought Sam deserved it.  
  
After all he's been through and on top of getting wounded by his own mate …

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Sam did sleep until shy before noon.  
The alpha refilled the coffee maker for the third time today. Stew simmering on the stove beside him. Pita-bread in the oven.  
  
On top of his gigantic fuck up last night, there were Boston and Los Angeles.  
Boston, which looked like war had come over the city overnight. It was shut off from the rest of the United States. First the government had thought that it had been a terrorist attack.  
  
But Dean Winchester and all the other hunters out there knew better than that after seeing what civilians wouldn't even notice on the footage they had shown on CNN.  
A man. Not just any man. A man, standing and watching another guy killing someone. That man wasn't just anyone.  
War …  
  
And what he led on a leash wasn't a huge dog. It had been one of Orthos' children. Maybe not bigger than a German shepherd, but definitely not a dog at all.  
Judging by the lack of color in its eyes. They'd been all white.  
The LA-Footage Bobby had come up with and had shown Dean that morning. It showed them something pretty familiar.  
  
There had been a man with a black dog too. That one had been thinner and taller than the other guy. The man had white hair and abnormally pale skin. He too kept in the background, watching a group of people pleading other people in decontamination suits to help them.  
CNN informed the rest of the damn world that there was an unknown infection spreading in and around Los Angeles and that no one was allowed to wherever leave or enter.  
They had talked about a plague …  
Pestilence …  
  
So … this was the beginning of the end, right?  
How were they supposed to stop the four riders?  
Yes. The four riders of the apocalypse. That's who they were. At least two of them anyway. And it'd be just a question of time until the other two would show up too.  
  
Though, they still hadn't figured out what Orthos's children had to do with this …

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Slowly but surely, Sam's mind crawled back towards awareness. He heard the clattering crockery from the kitchen and the gurgling noises from the coffee maker. He smelled food and coffee and Dean.  
The omega's forehead creased.  
  
He didn't only smell the typical musk and metal and moss. There was a sour stench to it, which he decided that he didn't like. As he awoke slowly, crawling out of the dark depths of sleep and dreams, he started to remember what had happened the night before.  
Sam still didn't feel mad about it though. Dean seemed to be mad enough for the both of them.  
“Dean?”, he croaked out, his voice shot.  
  
The alpha stilled as he stirred the stew and let go of the spoon. He practically froze in place. Dean didn't hear Sam saying his name. It was more like a mental call-out to him. A call-out with a strong pull. So much longing and a hint of despair.  
He felt Sam's mind tugging at his again. But he couldn't bring himself to move, nor to answer his mate's call, at least not instantly.  
  
The first audible thing he heard was the creaking of the bed and a soft sound, much like a pained moan.  
Dean still couldn't bring himself to move.  
He had hurt him. He had nearly killed him. He was a danger to the person he loved.  
That was a fact he couldn't quite process.  
  
On top of that, he had called Sam stupid and idiotic and had practically called him worthless. Or at least that was how Dean Winchester felt about it. That was the feeling he had felt coming from his mate as soon as the words had come over his lips.  
But it wasn't that way. Dean didn't even know why he had said that. Three miserably chosen words which'd cut deeper than the sharpest knife ever could.  
Sam was still fragile without his memory and all that…with his seizures, which could hit at any time. As if the omega didn't feel bad enough about needing someone to look out for him.  
  
He was only making it worse by calling him names like that. It wasn't only about what he had said. Also HOW he had said it. The disgust which had swung with his words was directed at himself and not Sam. But it had been obvious, that the omega must think that it was Sam he was disgusted of.  
And that was even worse.  
  
Dean didn't want him to think that something like that could ever happen. Because it wouldn't.  
So yes, Dean Winchester had a bunch of issues which he usually kept deep in his mind, locked behind a door with seven sigils.  
Usually.  
Dean mentally kicked himself. His mind telling his body to move and get his ass going. To man up and talk about it to Sam, even when he wasn't the biggest of talkers.  
They had to talk about this, otherwise it'd weigh upon their relationship and would come up again to hit them right in the face.  
  
Eventually, Dean's body obeyed his mind's command and he turned off the stove. Dean – only hesitantly – went into the bedroom, where he was kind of surprised that Sam was still in bed, only having changed his position.  
The omega gazed up at Dean, a rather concerned expression on his face. Okay, it wasn't just concern. He also looked hurt. Not only physically.  
  
“You need something for your arm?”, Dean finally managed to get his mouth to open up. But that wasn't quite what he wanted to ask. Actually he wanted to know, if Sam was up for a conversation.  
“It's not that bad.”, he mumbled and blinked sleepily up at the other man.  
“Good.” Really, Winchester, that's all you can muster? Dean sighed and rubbed over his face. This needed to be done. He was a guy. A hunter. He didn't run from monsters, so why hide from a conversation with his mate?  
Dean made his way around the bed and sat down on the opposite side from where his mate lay. He crawled onto it and inched back until his back was flush against the headboard.  
  
Sam still gazed up at him, watching him closely. He wandered if Dean was still mad at him for being so stupid. He should've known, right? After all he'd been a hunter in his past life. No matter if he could remember or not … these kind of things had to be some kind of instinct, right?  
Even when he wasn't an hunter … Sam should've known. Now that he thought about it, it was crystal clear. Right? Hunters were always on edge. They had to be.  
Maybe he truly was a stupid idiot.  
  
Dean laid his hand on Sam's head and brushed over his hair.  
“Because of yesterday ...” He cleared his throat. “I'm sorry. That knife … It shouldn't have been where it was in the first place. And I'm sorry for calling you a stupid idiot. I shouldn't have said that either.” He brushed over the omega's soft hair again. “You're not stupid, you know? You're doing a lot of things … and you're real clever ...”  
Sam gave him a look. “I don't do anything, Dean. I'm either sitting around, or watching TV, or reading books … I ...” He sighed and sniffed. “I do everything wrong.” Sam swallowed. “I can't even cook.”  
  
Dean smirked down at him. “Not everyone can cook like me.”  
Sam huffed out a breath.  
“What?” The ex-hunter's voice high-pitched.  
Sam snorted.  
“What?”, he asked again.  
  
“Nothin'. - It's … You tell me that I'm not stupid. I didn't say that I'm stupid. But neither am I clever. I can't even go out there among other people, Dean. I'm freaking out each time.” Of course he was right with that, but that didn't mean that it had to stay that way.  
“”Sammy.”, he sighed and shook his head. “Look … it's just … you haven't time to prove it to yourself.”  
That may be a point. In between being sick, owner of a parasite and that surgery … he didn't really have time to recover enough to prove himself to the others. Nor to himself.  
“So … how's your arm?” Dean cocked an eyebrow.  
“It's okay.”, Sam answered and cast his look aside.  
  
That meant he was uncomfortable with the question, or that he was lying.  
“Can you move your fingers?”, He asked again.  
Sam wiggled his fingers slowly. It hurt. He made a small sound in the back of his throat.  
There was silence again for a longer time than any of the both men liked.  
Finally, Sam spoke. “You know I'm not the fragile thing you think I am.”  
The alpha sighed heavily and sucked in a deep breath.  
  
“I know what I want, Dean. And I know what I don't want. And I want you.” Sam blushed and let his words sink in. It wasn't easy to talk that way. He felt like it had never been. But those things had to be said. This way or another. “I want you for real. I want to share … more things with you.” He paused again, listening to Dean's breaths, trying to judge how the alpha took what he said. “I don't mean that I think that I can have sex with you just yet. - But … someday I want to. And … and I'd like you to know that I'd want that because of me and not because I think I have to ...” Sam stole a glance at his mate.  
  
Dean's face stayed unreadable. Not even his scent changed. That made Sam a bit nervous.  
Having the tendency to think that it was rather a bad thing that a good one, Sam grew even more agitated at the lack of change.  
“Okay ...”, Dean mumbled. “So … you'd tell me if I'd try something you don't feel ready for?” It was hesitant and tentative.  
“I would.” The omega cleared his throat. “Not that we have done something I haven’t liked so far.” Sam stole another glance at the hunter.  
  
There was still no shift whatsoever in his features, nor in his scent.  
Eventually, Dean looked over at Sam with a fond smile on his lips. Sam looked certain, even with that shy blush on his cheeks and the way he wouldn't look up at Dean while talking. His scent had shifted, but not as if he was lying.  
  
So Sam was telling the truth.  
He'd let Dean know when it went too far. Not that Sam would really have to say something. Dean'd be able to smell it too. But sometimes the borders between fear and nervousness melted into each other and with his own arousal rushing through his veins, his foggy mind wouldn't be quite able to tell.  
  
So, Sam telling him to stop was an important part.  
“You sure, Baby boy?”, Dean asked again, his voice lower than before – huskier.  
He inched down until he lay right along Sam and was looking him in the eyes.  
“Yeah.”, Sam breathed. He held Dean's gaze. “I'm sure … I … I'd like to try … But … I ...”  
There was a long moment of awkward silence.  
  
“I get it. You want to try and if you can't go that far yet, you'll let me know, okay?” Dean still smiled warmly when he laid his hand on Sam's cheek.  
Sam nodded as he leaned into the warm touch of his mate, breathing him in deeply.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Friday afternoon and John Winchester was sitting on Bobby's porch.  
It wasn't an everyday thing, that John let himself be carried away like this. Beer in hand, staring into nothing and doing nothing but watching crows picking into the frozen ground.  
  
It wasn't like him to do NOTHING but watching TV and doing research when he could be out there in the wilderness of humanity, fighting evil.  
Though, this time he couldn't leave his son alone. Not like that. Not when he knew that Dean was threatened by a being his son didn't see as a danger at all. John had learned the hard way that the devil sometimes came in the shape of an angel. Or in this case an omega.  
  
There was no way he'd let his son go down that path.  
No matter what Dean may thought this Samuel was.  
It was everything, but not his mate. It couldn't be. First off, his son had hated that gender ever since that night when his mother and little Adam had died. Second, John couldn't imagine that his son's hate was vanishing just like that. Not after all those years. And third: He was pretty certain, that this bastard of a freak was controlling Dean somehow. After all it wouldn't be the first time to meet a psychic with that kind of abilities.  
  
He only had to figure out how to come close to him and that THING in the cabin, without setting his son off. The last thing he wanted was to hurt Dean physically.  
HIS Dean would've understood why he left him in that hospital. HIS Son would've seen the importance of following the trail.  
But this one? This Dean was definitely a different man.  
Not that John Winchester thought only once about the possibility, that the incident in the woods could've changed his son in any way. He was a Winchester. Winchester's were following their road of destination without questioning it.  
  
At least they were supposed to do so.  
So here he was, on the porch, sipping his beer and waiting for a certain woman from the depths of Mississippi to show up. Maybe she'd be able to change his son's mind and maybe she'd be capable of persuading him that the omega wasn't his son's mate after all.  
  
Missouri was a damn psychic. That had to mean something, right?  
She'd be able to fix his son.  
John only had to get to her before anyone else could.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

It was shy before five when Missouri Moseley arrived in her rust-brown old Buick on the Salvage. When she got out of the car, she didn't even look in John's direction. Her dark-brown eyes were trained on something in the passenger's seat. Not even when she rounded the car to get whatever was so important to have such a focus on it.  
  
The small lady took a bag from the passenger's seat and slung it over her shoulder. The brown leather-straps dug deep into the warm coat she was wearing, telling the oldest Winchester that she had to be carrying something real heavy.  
Most likely utensils for a ritual, which likely involved votive candles, a whole lot of different spices and herbs and some more creepy stuff.  
Only, when she turned around to take off past Bobby's house towards Dean's cabin, John Winchester was standing right in front of her, blocking the way.  
  
She made a surprised gasp and her flat palm landed on her chest right above her heart. “John Winchester.”, she grumbled, annoyed and was about to get around him. “Don't you do that to a lady.”  
But he got in her way. Again.  
The two of them hadn't parted in the best of ways a couple of years ago. She had told him to let it go and not follow the lead further, that it'd get his son hurt if he didn’t. He hadn't listened. Of course Missouri had known that John hadn't been killed back then in the woods too.  
  
The dark-skinned lady knew so many things, though she barely spoke about them.  
“Wait. We need to talk, Missouri. It's about Dean. It's important.”, he said firmly. As if it was an order. By an ex-marine.  
Missouri gazed up at him and tilted her head to the side, as if she already knew what he had to tell. “That's where I'm headin' right now.”, she said, and poked her finger into the man's chest.  
“No. - You don't understand … when you go in there … try to get my son alone. Talk to him. Tell him it ain't no good to have the omega around.” John seemed truly concerned.  
  
She nearly felt sorry for the hunter. He sounded and looked desperate as hell. Though, she had to raise both eyebrows in surprise at his request. She had thought that she'd be here because of Dean's mate … then again … sometimes her psychic abilities were screwing with her memories.  
Then she understood and she blew out an heavy sigh. “You haven't changed in all these years.” Missouri shook her head and frowned at him.  
“The guy who's with him … he's done something. Or is doing something. Missouri, you gotta help him. That thing … the omega … He's gonna drag him down.”  
  
The chocolate brown lady pursed her lips as if she was thinking. First her face softened. Then the softness faded and it hardened again. “Get your head out of your ass, Winchester. That ain't humbug. - I'd feel it if your son's mate was a bad guy.” She patted the older man's shoulder and nudged him aside. “You'd better apologize to Sam though. It'd fix a lot of things – for once listen to me, John – in between you and your son too. - Leaving him in a damn hospital to rot all by himself wasn't the right call either. He's got all the rights to be mad at you.” And with that she was heading past John, who kept standing where he stood, obviously not satisfied with how this talk had ended.  
  
John's gaze followed the lady towards Dean's house, before he headed back inside, leaving the beer on the porch beside the chair.  
Missouri adjusted the bag over her shoulder and knocked at the wooden door before her.  
Minutes later, the door opened and Dean welcomed her warmly. Then he invited her in and showed her into the kitchen.  
Missouri let the bag slip from her shoulder and put it on the floor right beside the chair on which she sat down.  
  
“You had a good drive?”, Dean asked as he poured two cups of coffee.  
“Yes, darlin'.” She eyed him intently, then looked around. “It was a peaceful one.”  
Dean came with the mugs to the table and put one of them in front of Missouri, the other one opposite of her. The ex-hunter then went to get milk and sugar, so that the lady could dose her own coffee with whatever she wanted.  
  
“SO … where's the patient?”, she asked curiously after her first sip of coffee.  
Dean sighed and rubbed over his face. “Living-room.” He looked up, meeting her gaze. “He's nervous.”  
She nodded. “Sam had an accident?”  
Dean sat up straighter and swallowed thickly. “... kind of. How'd you know?” She still surprised him sometimes.  
Missouri gestured towards the bin beside the fridge, where a red-stained piece of fabric lurked over the brim. “You're not lookin' like you're hurt.” She rose both eyebrows. “John?”  
  
Dean chuckled nervously and shook his head. “No. Me … He … I ...” He looked guilty as hell to say the least.  
“I think Sam knows you didn't want to hurt him.” She smiled softly and leaned back.  
“Yeah. He told me that. Said he ain't mad at me and … and that it's not my fault.” The ex-hunter actually blushed. “I could've killed him. You know?”  
“You won't keep that knife of yours under the pillow anymore, so I guess that's a good thing.” The psychic emptied her mug and put it back down on the table before her. “So … you wanna introduce me to your mate?”  
A smile spread over his face. “Of course.”  
  
They moved into the living-room, where Sam was sitting on the couch, a bowl with chopped fruits in his lap. When they entered, he put it aside and jumped up, extending his hand towards Missouri as she stood before him.  
His hands were shaking.  
“Welcome, Ma'am.”, he stammered. Sam only hoped he'd do it right – just as Dean had told him to and that he wouldn't piss her off. Obviously, the alpha had a couple of differences with that woman. At least they had in the past.  
  
She beamed at him and shook his hand. But her smile faltered and she gazed back over her shoulder at Dean. “What did you tell him about me?” Her gaze turned sharp.  
Dean froze.  
Sam pulled his hand out of her grasp.  
“You better sit down, son.” she waved at Sam and then gestured Dean to sit down in the recliner.  
When they were all seated, she brushed with the back of her hand over Sam's cheek, brushing hair aside and revealing the scar on his face.  
  
Sam flinched away from the touch and Missouri stole a glance at Dean, who felt his intestines cringe too at his mate's reaction.  
“I am going to have a look at you, boy.” Her voice was soft and her smile tender. “It won't hurt. You're not goin' to feel anythin' at all.” She brushed with her fingertips over Sam's temple and closed her eyes.  
Sam closed his too.  
  
Seconds later, she pulled back and blew out a slow long breath. Her eyes opened, and so did Sam's.  
Dean sat on the very edge of the recliner, waiting for her to spill.  
She made a soft sound.  
Sam inched back until he felt the side-lean against his back, though his gaze lingered on her.  
“What is it?”, Dean asked impatiently.  
“The damage is already done.”, she murmured.  
Sam frowned and gazed at her curiously.  
“Damage? What damage?” Dean rose from the recliner and sauntered over to the couch, where he stopped behind Sam. He laid his hand on the younger man's shoulder.  
Missouri looked up at him. “I can still fix it, but you may not like what I am going to suggest.” The lady looked back at Sam.  
  
“I can make you remember your past. But … with that comes a price.” She paused and let that sink in. “You are now a different person from whom you have been before. You may not like certain things you did and thought before.”  
  
Sam nodded pensively.  
Dean's frown deepened. “What's the big deal with that?”  
She looked up at John's son. “Because he may not be the man who he is now. The part of his memory which he is aware of and parts of his personality formed during the past year. If … if he remembers what's been before, he might change.”  
Sam nodded again.  
  
Dean didn't look convinced by what he was hearing. That sounded as if Sam wouldn't be Sam anymore if they'd do that. And if they didn’t?  
“What if he doesn't?”  
“The seizures will become more frequent and they are going to damage his brain sooner or later.”, she explained calmly.  
  
“Better healthy and different than having a ruined brain, right Sammy?” Dean obviously tried to joke, but it didn't sound like one. Not at all.  
Missouri glared at him.  
Sam looked stricken. “If I don't do that I'll die. And if I do, I'll die too … like … I won't be me anymore? Will I be the guy I was before?”  
  
Missouri seemed to think about the younger male's question intently before answering. “That may happen. But I can't tell for sure, honey. You went through a surgery to chop off your past life. I can't tell what will happen when I try to connect those parts again.”  
Sam nodded. He felt Dean's hand on his shoulder tighten and shortly after, the ex-hunter's other hand covered his other shoulder.  
  
Sam reached up and wrapped his fingers around Dean's wrist. “The more I'm going to think about it, the more confused I get.”, he mumbled to himself. Then he tilted his head back, resting it against Dean's belly and gazed up at his mate.  
Dean looked back down at him, seeming as stricken as he was.  
  
“However you want it to do.”, he said hoarsely. Dean Winchester knew exactly what this meant. He could lose Sam. This Sam. And he didn't want that. He didn't want him to change into someone else. After all he didn't know the man Sam had been before and who he would be after this.  
So yes, he was scared shitless. But he also knew that Sam would die because of the seizures in the long run. So they didn't really have choices here.  
  
Dean was also afraid, that Sam would not feel the same way anymore afterwards. That he wouldn't want him as an alpha anymore. After all there were omegas out there, who were taking suppressants.  
“Your choice, baby boy.”, he insisted. “Whatever it is, I'm in.” He tried to give him a reassuring smile, but he couldn't.  
  
Sam squeezed Dean's hand. He wasn't sure himself. Most of all, he didn't want to change into someone he didn't know. Someone whose thoughts (during the flashbacks) had been so confusing and off …  
Missouri leaned back slightly and watched the both of them communicate without words. It wasn't something she was allowed to witness often.  
  
“Will I still love Dean?”, Sam finally asked and turned to look back at her.  
Missouri's expression shifted into something more sad. “I don't know, darlin'. - But you are mates. Two halves of a whole. You belong to each other and no matter how, you will find together again.”  
“How does it work … I mean … Whatever you're going to do with me … when I wake up … Will it be him? Or will I still be me? How is it going to work?”  
  
Missouri sighed again. “I haven't done these things too often. - But I can tell you, that you may change. But not like you seem to imagine it. Those memories will come back to you and you are going to understand your former self. It isn't your whole personality that's going to change. It may only be a few bits and pieces of you.” She paused. “It is not as if I'm snappin' my fingers and you're not you anymore.”  
  
“But it sounded that way. A lot.”, Dean spoke up.  
“Sam won't forget about who he became in this past year.”, Missouri assured them. “It will be as if two parts fuse into one.”  
“Are you sure?”, Sam asked.  
  
And Missouri nodded. “I am sure. You will understand when you see.”

 

…. to be continued


	26. Give Me More

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> facebook.com/bruisedbloodybroken

Fields Of Jasmine  
Chapter 26 ~ Give Me More

Sam saw himself torn between not wanting to change who he was and the need to stop those flashbacks from happening. He'd rather remember everything about it than get glimpses of his past life.  
  
The only thing he didn't like was the possibility that his personality might change. That he would accept who he had been and that he kind of liked what he had been doing back in the day. That he wanted to restart being a hunter.  
  
Currently he didn't feel any need of doing so.  
He was more or less satisfied with who and what he was.  
What if he hadn't been back then?  
  
What if he didn’t feel the same about Dean as he did right now?  
Sam sighed and wiped over his face with his palm.  
His lower arm hurt real bad and made him feel a bit nauseous.  
  
He also wondered why he hadn't felt that pull towards Dean Winchester when he had first seen him back then in the woods. He asked himself, how it was possible to be mates, when there had been no hint about it then.  
Shouldn’t he have scented the younger Winchester then and why hadn't he felt back in the day like the omega he was now?  
  
Sam's emotions and feelings in those flashbacks felt as if they were covered by a thick layer of something that dulled his emotional world. As if he had been a hunter and nothing but a hunter, on a task he had to accomplish.  
But why?  
  
Now that there was Dean he didn't want to feel that way anymore. He wanted to feel like he felt now.  
Sure, sometimes he felt worthless and useless and all that shit, but that wasn't all bad, was it? After all he was questioning himself, and questioning himself meant that he was ready to work on his character in general.  
  
What if former him hadn't wanted to be what he was right now?  
Sam sighed again.  
All he wanted was not to lose Dean.  
If he'd die in the process it didn't bother him as much as changing and losing his mate in the process.  
  
Missouri had assured him later on, that he wouldn't. That they were mates and that neither of them would be able to abandon that bond.  
That even if he did change into who he had been before, with all his emotions and thoughts, he would never be able to part. That it'd be like ripping off one of his limbs.  
  
Sam intently hoped that it was that way. That no matter how he might change, that he wouldn't be able to let go of his mate.  
Then there was Dean. What if Dean didn't like the person he turned into after getting his memories and former life back? What if the ex-hunter didn’t want him anymore because he had some weird kinks.  
Maybe he liked eating food with his fingers or being overly tidy or ... god knew what else.  
  
There were so many what ifs and no one would be able to answer his questions. Not even he himself.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Dean was the one who was scared shitless.  
About all those what ifs, which coursed through his mind and let his brain grind to a halt anytime he'd think about a specific thing which might change.  
The last thing he wanted was to loose Sam.  
  
Okay, Missouri had assured him – while they'd been in the kitchen to prepare dinner together – that there was no way that they'd part. That it wasn't in mates’ natures to go separate ways.  
They'd stay at least friends. Friends. For hell's sake. What did that even mean?  
  
Now that Sam had made clear that he wanted MORE, they might become friends? That wasn't fair at all. That was a step backwards in their relationship's process.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Missouri had decided to leave them both alone after dinner, so that they could talk about her offer. She herself went to Bobby's to say hi to the grizzled hunter. And Ellen. And Jim. And to have a talk with John. Again.  
This time she took her time with him. She didn't say, that his son and Sam were meant for each other. Nor did she mention that they were Soulmates or anything else which the hunter couldn't handle.  
  
She chose her words carefully. And at the end, it seemed like John understood. That there was no spell or curse making his son want to have the omega with him. And that the omega – Sam – wasn't a monster at all.  
  
She also made it clear to him, that no matter how important the job or recent case was, that he wasn't supposed to put those needs before his son's.  
So she left the old hunter guilt-ridden at Bobby's house to overthink what they had talked about and returned to Dean's.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Dean Winchester took a can of coke out of the fridge and grabbed the bottle of pills from the counter. He headed back into the bedroom, where he had left Sam and Missouri Moseley.  
  
His mate was clearly in pain. Whether from the flashback he had endured an hour ago, or because of his wound, he wasn't sure. Sam had even declined to take Tylenol earlier. Now it was so bad, that he was pale and sweating and had to lay down in bed.  
"Here we go, baby boy." Dean emerged and went straight to his mate's side, where Sam sat propped up on a heap of pillows.  
  
Sam took the pills and the coke gratefully and swallowed them. He had his injured arm resting in his lap, his head pillowed on a super-soft cushion from the couch.  
"Maybe we should wait.", Dean suggested as he eyed the younger man carefully. "Tomorrow might be a better day to do this."  
  
Sam handed him the can and shook his head. "No. I want it to be over with." he gazed at Missouri, pleading with her with his huge hazel-green eyes to tell Dean that it'd be okay.  
The psychic hesitated. "Dean's right. Maybe we should wait a day ... or two."  
  
"There could be another seizure. Another reason why we shouldn’t wait another day. Please." His gaze snapped up at Dean. "Please."  
The ex-hunter sighed.  
Missouri pursed her lips. "Sam's right. Something could always happen to delay it. We might as well get it over with."  
  
Dean made a disapproving sound in the back of his throat. "What am I supposed to do?"  
"Get a coffee. This is gonna take a while.", she suggested softly as she turned to see Dean staring concerned at his mate. "This isn't dangerous. I can tell you that. He may feel uncomfortable and tired afterwards, but that's all."  
  
The alpha eyed the both of them. He couldn't shake off his concern. They had also said that the surgery wasn't a big deal and then Sam had ended up half dead on a hospital bed with one of his organs missing.  
He sighed.  
  
"It's gonna be okay. You trust her, right?" Sam looked up at Dean and reached for his hand, intertwining their fingers.  
"Yeah. Of course I do, Sammy." Dean smiled at him and squeezed his fingers.  
"Then I trust her too." The omega returned his smile.  
There was a beat of silence.  
  
"You'll be there when I wake up, right?" There was a pleading, insecure hint in his voice.  
The ex-hunter grinned. "Of course. Where else would I be?"  
He bowed down and gave Sam a lingering kiss on his lips. All soft and tender.  
As hard as it was to leave Sam with the woman, he went into the living room, but left the door to their bedroom ajar and settled down on the couch.  
Missouri had said that it'd take about half an hour. So he stared at the clock on the wall above of the TV, starting to count the passing seconds.  
  
Missouri sat down on the edge of the bed, right beside Sam and laid her fingertips on his temple.  
"Try to relax honey.", she whispered softly, "It's gonna be a wild ride." And that was all she'd say before the present drained away from his senses and something tore his mind down into the never-ending darkness of his past.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

As promised, half an hour later, Missouri came out of the bedroom. She looked a bit pale and her pupils were dilated. The woman headed straight to the kitchen and gulped down a glass of water before she came back into the living room, where Dean sat on the couch and was following her every move.  
  
"How's-" He didn't come any further.  
Missouri sat down beside him and patted his knee. "He's okay. Sam's not back yet. You might wanna join him. I guess he'll need you when he wakes up."  
The alpha eyed her curiously. "What'd you see?", he asked concerned.  
"Everything.", she breathed. "But ... it's his part to tell you. - I can't ... It's a secret between me and him as long as he doesn't tell me otherwise."  
  
Dean nodded in understanding, even though he felt a bit disappointed. But he understood. She might have seen things that weren't to be shared with anyone else. Even Dean had stuff stored in his mind he wouldn't share with anyone. Not even with Sam.  
So he got up and laid down beside Sam, who seemed to be asleep. The alpha wrapped his arm around his mate's middle and inched closer, so that there wasn't a single body part not touching Sam's.  
It took an hour for Sam to come back.  
  
An hour, in which Dean started to consider that something had gone wrong and that he might should call Missouri back in. Asking her if Sam was truly okay.  
But when he felt the first deep inhale of his mate, his rib cage expanding completely, Dean sighed a breath of relief.  
"Dean.", his mate gasped, his hands instantly started to struggle out from under the blanket and started to search as his eyes snapped open. "Dean." This time it was more desperate, frantic.  
"I'm here." The alpha's hands found Sam's face and he cupped it. "'m here, baby boy."  
  
The omega turned around and the very next moment his arms were wrapped around him and his lips crushed into Dean's with such force that their teeth clicked together. Sam's tongue demanded entry and who was the alpha to refuse?  
Sam fell over him like a starving man, hands all over the ex-hunter, lips not wanting to leave him.  
"Sam.", he moaned into the kiss, and wrapped his arms around his mate in return, pulling him into the kiss. "Sm'my."  
  
Dean's hands wandered to the younger man's hip and lower back, his oxygen-starved brain yelling for much needed air as he couldn't get any into his system through his squeezed shut nose.  
Finally, mercifully, Sam pulled back a fraction, before sealing his lips over Dean's again.  
Though, the alpha felt honored to be the one and only thing Sam seemed to long for, the younger man's attention and the way he demanded to be close to him, set alarm-bells off in Dean's subconscious mind.  
He gripped the omega's hips and pushed gently.  
Sam obeyed instantly and let go of Dean's kiss-swollen lips.  
  
The alpha searched his mate's face. All he could see was despair and fear, which mirrored his scent.  
"I remember.", Sam breathed. "Everything."  
Dean wasn't quite sure how to respond to that. Was it a good thing? Or rather a bad?  
"I know.", Sam continued, his eyes growing misty and distant. "I know why."  
The alpha frowned. Though refused to ask what his mate knew. Of all the things he was thinking right now, the most important one was that Sam was there with him and that he seemed to be who he always was.  
His mate. His second half.  
  
That was what counted.  
No matter what Sam remembered, or how it made him feel, they'd deal with it. In good time.  
  
"They've to break the seals. Thirteen seals. Each of them. One by one. They need to break them to free Lucifer.", Sam babbled. "I couldn't figure out what those seals were. I ... I remember ... It's ... I'm not dead. I'm supposed to be dead. It should've killed me. It ... It's part of it. To kill me. And then it'd break a seal." Sam swallowed, staring into nothingness. "But ... why would I do that? Why would I want to make me forget those things? Not knowing that ... It'd clear the path for ... for them to succeed, Dean. - They'd ... Why'd I do that?"  
  
Dean shushed him and pulled him in. He tugged Sam's head into the crook of his neck.  
"I didn't know ... I ..." Sam gasped. "I wasn't supposed to be the thirteenth. - John ... He knows. He's been ... He's killed her. He's killed her before they could take her." Sam's eyes started to water. "He's killed them all. - He ... He wanted to stop it from happening."  
  
Dean shushed his mate again, stroking over his head and back soothingly.  
"I ... I wanted out of the business after John. I ... I wanted to have nothing to do with it anymore. - I wanted out. - Why'd they ..." There were so many memories, so many emotions. Everything just being there and crashing down over him. "John knew. If he'd ... I didn't think that he knew what he was doing, but he did. Back in the woods. He knew. And I didn't figure it out. And didn't have a clue. But he had."  
  
"Sammy.", Dean whispered into his mate's ear. "You did nothing wrong."  
The omega sobbed into Dean's warm skin. "That's why he lured me into the woods. - How did he know it was me? How'd he figure out that ... that I'd come for the both of you? How could he make sure?" The omega sucked in a shuddering breath. "No one knew who I am. If I'm real ... How'd he know that I'm an omega? How'd he know, Dean? I was so careful. I never was around other hunters ... I ... I was a loner. I ... How could he figure out that I'm for real and that I'm what I am? I took suppressants. I didn't even ... I stole them. No one could track me down due a receipt. No one could."  
  
The alpha breathed in Sam's scent. He held him. Just held him and stroke him and waited for him to calm down.  
"I don't know, sunshine." The alpha took in another breath. "And you know what? That's in the past. We can't change what happened back then. But we can change what's going to happen in the future. Neither of us knew. And you couldn't either."  
  
First he needed to get Sam to calm down and drink something. He needed Sam to be stable and then ...THEN he'd go and punch his father in the face for hiding this from him. For not telling him what was going on and for not letting him in on what his plans were.  
He'd kick the old man's ass for killing innocent people – on top of everything else. Psychic or not ... They weren't bad people just because some demon decided to use them.  
  
You'd never kill innocent humans. Not even for the greater good. As a hunter you'd always look for an alternative way.  
And that may have been the reason why John hadn't let him in on what was going on. Because he knew that Dean wouldn't play along. That he'd never kill someone he wasn't sure had been guilty.  
Sam eventually calmed down and stopped weeping.  
  
"You good to get up?", Dean asked, giving Sam's back a final stroke.  
Sam hesitated but finally nodded into the alpha's wet skin where his tears were about to dry.  
"We'll talk to Bobby about it. But not today. And if you don't want to, you don't have to come with." Dean knew that this may wasn't the right time to talk about it just yet, but they had to. Time was running out and they had the apocalypse to stop.  
  
Not that it was the apocalypse. But it damn well looked like it on TV.  
"I want you to drink and eat something and we'll take a shower and lay down. And if you want to ... you can tell me what you remember. And if not ... It's completely up to you, babe." He tugged Sam's head back by the hair and stole a peck from his lips.  
  
Sam nodded again.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Missouri said goodbye to Sam and Dean, since there wasn't enough space to sleep in the cabin. Besides, she did look a bit uncomfortable with the offering of taking Sam's former bedroom. Whether it was because it was directly beside theirs, or because of some other weird reason, neither of them could tell.  
  
Missouri seemed to prefer to sleep at Bobby's and head back home in the early morning.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

The younger Winchester and Sam took a shower after sharing a bag of cheese balls and a can of coke.  
The last items in the house, which were at least partly declared as food.  
  
They then headed under the shower and went to bed. Dean only hesitantly crawled in on his side, remembering what had happened the last night everything had started off rather peaceful and ended up in some major-catastrophic incident.  
But as soon as he was settled, Sam was right beside him, long limps tangled with his. The comfortable heaviness of Sam's head using his chest as a pillow.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

When they woke the next morning, they were still in the same position and bright lights of the early spring-sun illuminated the room.  
At least it wasn't that cold anymore outside. That meant that neither of them had to get out in the early morning and darkness to get the fire going in the boiler room. It'd reach out if they'd make fire in the fireplace in the living-room.  
  
Sam mumbled something incoherent, when Dean shifted and was about to roll out under his mate.  
"Toilet.", Dean grumbled sleepily.  
Sam made a disapproving sound.  
"I'll be back." Maybe that'd make Sam let go of his shirt.  
It did.  
  
When he came back, Sam lay on his back, his eyes open and his expression blank. His wounded arm was lying on top of the covers.  
Dean leaned in the doorway of the bathroom and smiled to himself for a moment longer. He adjusted his grip on the first aid kit and pushed away from the door frame.  
"Gotta check on your arm, Sammy." His voice was still rough, and that tiny bit lower, which made Sam's skin crawl and the small hairs stand up.  
  
It wasn't something that freaked him out though. At least not in that way, which meant that he should run. It was a comfortable freaking out. If that was even possible at all.  
"It feels okay." The omega directed his gaze toward the other man and returned his smile.  
"I need to see if it looks okay though." He sauntered over to Sam and laid the first aid kit out on the blanket, and across Sam's thighs. "Don't want you to catch an infection or something."  
  
Sam watched his mate carefully as he unwrapped the gauze and inspected the wound. He cleaned the surrounding areas and the stitched up gash itself carefully, causing Sam to only hiss at the sharp sting of antiseptic against his skin.  
  
"Looks good.", Dean mumbled as he wiped over it once more. "A bit red though."  
Sam kept on watching and listening.  
"When are we meeting up with Bobby?", Sam asked, when Dean was wrapping his lower arm back up.  
The alpha shrugged. "After breakfast I guess." He stole a glance at Sam. "You comin' with?" Of course he sounded surprised. Because he was. He'd rather not have the omega with him. Things could get ugly with John still being there. And as he knew his father, the man wouldn't back off.  
  
That wasn't a bad thing per say. Maybe John could tell them some more things about what was going on, since he obviously had been hiding a lot.  
From all of them.  
  
"I'd like to." Of course Sam didn’t think that Dean would want him there. Mostly because of John Winchester. Yesterday he might had said that he wouldn't want to be in the same room as the older Winchester had been. But the cards had been reshuffled, and now things were different. Sam kind of knew that he wasn't just anyone.  
  
He had been the one saving the man's life, even after he had tried to kill him.  
"You sure?" Dean tugged the loose end under the upper end.  
Sam nodded as he bit his lower lip. He'd lie if he'd say that he wasn't nervous about it or that he didn't feel a flicker of fear. But he felt as if he was part of this and that he was supposed to help in every way he could.  
  
And if it meant to remember what he had found out about Orthos and his children and what the plans of this demon were in general, he needed to be there. Even when some things still were fuzzy and a bit blurry at best.  
"We should go shopping too." Dean gazed at Sam. "Wanna try and come with me? Pick something out for tonight's dinner?"  
  
Sam hesitated. He wasn't sure if he was ready for that. There'd be a whole lot of people. Foreign people.  
"We'd drive around lunchtime.", the alpha suggested. "It's gonna be calm around lunch."  
Sam frowned at that. "You think ... I ..." He started to stammer again. "What if ... - I mean ... If ..."  
  
"If you're getting a panic attack?" Dean continued for him. "Don't worry. We won't go into the mall. I'll show you Barney's."  
Of course Dean wouldn't drag him somewhere where he didn’t have a chance of getting Sam out in time.  
Sam seemed to ponder that. "Yeah ... If ... If you think I can do that?"  
  
Dean cocked an eyebrow at Sam. The omega hadn't changed that much, he figured. Still damn insecure and shy.  
"Can you imagine going shopping with me?" Dean wiggled his eyebrows.  
Sam chuckled and blushed. "You're talking as if it’s something dirty."  
The alpha pursed his lips and titled his head to the side. "Who knows?"  
  
Sam snorted a laugh and threw his head back. "Okay. Yes. I think I can do that."  
"That's my boy."  
Sam blushed even harder at the praise coming from his mate's mouth.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~  
  
Sam wasn't that hungry this morning.  
Actually he wasn't hungry at all.  
Not when he was about to meet Dean's father. Again.  
  
Dean picked up on his mate's mood and regretted even asking him if he wanted to come. Maybe he shouldn't have told him at all.  
And then, the alpha didn't feel hungry anymore either.  
So most of their makeshift breakfast – coffee and yogurt – wandered back into the fridge or down the drain. They went to get dressed and brush their teeth and then left the cabin after making a fire.  
  
Sam entered Bobby's house right after Dean. He kept his head down and walked right after his mate, hands behind his back.  
Old habits died hard these days. Even with his memories back, which felt more like those of a stranger.  
Bobby guided them into the living room, where he gestured them to take a seat. Sam sat down on the couch right beside the alpha.  
  
His gaze drifted through the room, but he couldn't spot anyone but Bobby and Dean. A second later, there were two pairs of footfalls echoing through the hall.  
Ellen and Jim came in moments later. Sam greeted both with a nod and a shy smile.  
"Hey, boys.", Ellen greeted back and chose to sit in the recliner.  
Jim took a seat on Bobby's desk.  
  
Both seemed surprised that Dean had brought Sam with him.  
"Where's John?", Dean finally asked what he and his mate where thinking.  
"Will be here any second." Bobby turned to give Ellen and Jim a look. "He's had a rough night."  
Dean huffed out a breath. "Yeah? Did he?"  
  
"He's had a lot to think about.", Ellen answered with a grin. "Missouri kicked his ass."  
The alpha's laughter died away and he cleared his throat.  
"Not that we were spying on them.", Bobby declared. "The both of them got a bit loud in between yells."  
Sam's eyes perked up and he gazed first at Ellen and then at Bobby, sharing short glances with both of them.  
  
Dean opened his mouth to ask something, but when he heard heavy boots hitting old wood, he closed it again.  
Sam dropped his head down in that submissive way he'd do when he got insecure. His mate picked up on it – of course – and took Sam's hand in his.  
John looked awful to say the least. As if he hadn't slept the past couple of days. It served him right anyway. He couldn't possibly count on anyone in the room to show pity.  
  
Especially not from Dean.  
He had thought a lot of things about his father, but never that he'd kill innocents. John had always insisted on following the rules. Always. And then he went and broke them. He lied to his partner – his son – more times than just once.  
  
"Guys.", John grumbled as he entered the room, not even as much as stealing a glance at Dean's mate. He was ignoring him. Completely as it seemed.  
That didn't make Dean feel happy at all.  
"Dad." The syllables were spoken sharply. Warning.  
  
The older Winchester took a seat in the second recliner. Though there would've been enough space to sit on the couch.  
Neither of them wanted to be close to the other anyway.  
"What's up? Why'd we need to get together in a family meeting?" Yes, John Winchester could be a giant dick at times. And maybe if he'd been well, they would've sounded like a bad joke. But they actually didn't. They were hollow and faint in the ears of everyone present.  
  
"Sam remembers.", Dean answered his question. "We've information we thought would be interesting as it's got a lot to do with our recent case and the events in Boston and LA." He squeezed the omega's hand. "And the fact that you've been lying to me. You knew Sam before you came here. You lured him into a trap. You've killed the others like him too, haven't you?"  
  
John sniffed and blew out a deep breath. Then he nodded. "Collateral damage. You know how it goes. Besides. They've been dangerous." He waved at Sam. "Everyone like him. And I won't say I'm sorry, because I'm not."  
That cut deep into Sam's chest. A shuddering breath escaped his lips.  
Ellen, Bobby and Jim stared blankly at the older Winchester.  
  
"You knew about this?", Bobby asked angrily. "And you didn't think about gettin' help?"  
"I didn't, Bobby. I didn't need help. The fewer people knew about it the better.", John answered without looking up. "It was to protect you guys. And Dean."  
"Protect? - John. You've been killing human beings for fucks sake. That's as bad as it could get.", Dean spat back at his father. "You dragged me into the damn woods for a werewolf-hunt which actually had been a hunt for Sam. - How'd you figure it out it was him? That they'd take him next?"  
  
John looked up, his look brushing over Sam on his way to Dean. "I didn't. I only knew that he's the last one out of his generation. Since I didn't know if they'd be able to ... you know ... men ... I had to make a choice. And I decided to take out the male omegas too."  
  
"How?", Sam choked out. "How'd you know? I vanished after my parents died. No one could've found me. - How'd you do it?" Now Sam looked up, his voice calm, his face contorted in immobility. Only his eyes were burning with a searing fire.  
  
"You weren't easy to track down. In fact. I didn't track you down at all. - Garth gave me a file with weird shit, wanting to make me believe that there was a guy out there saving hunter's lives." John shrugged, but held Sam's gaze. "The only thing I needed to do was some digging' and ... the rest was crystal clear to me."  
The man explained things as if he had been working out a plan to track down some deer.  
Sam frowned.  
  
"Look. I did what I had to do. - I knew, after they took the first one, that they were going after special kids. I'm not proud of it, but I'm not ashamed either. I tracked the rest of you down and made sure they wouldn't be able to use them. - For some I came too late." There was a hint of guilt in the hunter's eyes. "After what happened in the woods I wasn't able to find you again. - So I laid low and waited. Then there was the fire in that hospital and the missing patient and two nurses and when I got there and saw your picture in the file ... I knew I was too late for getting the job done before they'd get to you." John pursed his lips. "The story of someone finding a male omega in the woods was on the local police radio. - It was a coincidence that I had been in that area. Really. I only wanted to stop by and check on Dean ... and then I saw you ..."  
  
Sam swallowed thickly.  
"He saved your life, dad.", Dean told him. "He got you out of that werewolf's den."  
John sighed and rubbed over his face. "I know. That didn't make it any easier, believe me."  
Sam tilted his head to the side, like a puppy that didn't understand a given order. "You'd killed me though?"  
John ignored his question at first. But then seemed to decide otherwise. "Yes.".  
  
Dean leaned back. "What else do you know that we don't know? Any other important things?"  
John's yaw was set tight. "A demon's collecting the ... beasts. - But I couldn't figure out for what purposes."  
Dean nodded. "Though you decided to kill a dozen kids because of ... what?"  
"I had to, Dean.", John's voice rose. "That's why I wouldn't tell you. You would've held me back!"  
  
Dean leaned back and huffed out a breath. "You're damn well right. I would've kicked your ass for that. 'Cause I'm not a murderer."  
"If that's what I have to live with. Okay. Then I'm a killer." John threw both hands into the air. "I was just doing my job."  
"A crappy job, John. We could've figured out what they had planned.", Bobby bite back. "Now we've dead psychics. Twelve of them mauled to death and the rest killed and nothing but a hand full of information about Orthos and what his children are supposed to do." He blew out a breath in disbelieve.  
  
"They've to break the seals.", Sam murmured. "There are seals. I don't know which kind or how. But there are seals. And each one of them has to break one."  
All eyes were on the omega, except for Dean's, who already knew all about it.  
  
"I ... I can't remember all the details yet. But ... I think that they are supposed to free something with it. I know too, that the four riders of the apocalypse have got to do something with it." He cleared his throat. "But I don't know what exactly though. The thirteen seals have to be broken in the correct order. And the four riders are supposed to collect something from there. I think. It's all still too blurry." Sam hissed as he reached for his temple.,  
  
Dean stroke over Sam's head. "Don't push it.", he whispered. "It's more than we knew before. You did good."  
"Means we've to look for seals which have to be broken, I guess?" Bobby huffed out an annoyed breath. "Sounds like something damn big there. Demons, seals, Orthos ... Sounds as if they had planned it for quite some time."  
  
"I ... If I would've known why ... I wouldn't let you put that bullet into my brain.", Sam stared right into John's face. "I would. But I didn't get the bigger picture. I didn't get why they were dead. Why they have gotten killed. First I thought it were accidents, or that the demon couldn't use them for his purposes. - I didn't get it until you came for me in the woods. That there was someone else involved into this too.", Sam admitted.  
  
Dean rose, drawing all attention at him.  
"Gladly, some werewolf disturbed your intermezzo.", he barked at his father and tugged at Sam's hand to make him stand up.  
The omega followed instantly. Dean shared a gaze with Bobby, Ellen and Jim, then glared at his father.  
  
"We'll do some research on that when we get home." He gave Bobby a nod. "I'll call if we find something."  
"Atta, kid.", Bobby called after them as he watched them leave. He then gave John a pointing look. "Tell you what, John. Stop being an ass towards Sam and Dean might call you his dad again."

... to be continued


	27. Lovebites

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANKS to MK Knight for proofreading, you're AMAZING!

Fields Of Jasmine  
Chapter 27 ~ Love bites

Barney's was a rather small market. With narrowed isles and a wide range of goods.  
  
Sam stayed glued to the ex-hunter's soles, who was pushing the shopping cart ahead of him. Dean tried to ignore that his mate was attracting people's attention in a rather uncomfortable way. They didn't only eye Sam curiously, they also gave the ex-hunter pointed looks.  
  
Gladly there weren't a whole lot of other costumers around.  
"See something you like?", Dean asked as he stopped in the isle with rice and noodles. He waved at the shelves. "Something you wanna try out? I'm in, baby boy."  
Sam gazed up through his long bangs, which were hiding his scar mostly. He shook his head.  
  
Dean had at least partly hoped, that Sam would not act as much like a victim of domestic abuse after he remembered. He had figured, that Sam would show more consciousness when he'd know who he was and what he had done.  
Obviously he'd been wrong.  
  
"Tell you what." Dean turned around on his heels to face Sam. He laid his hand on Sam's chin and tilted it up so that he could truly look him in the eyes. When he had the omega's attention he continued. "You have to choose five things. Five."  
  
Dean watched his mate's gaze flicker towards the rice-bags and instantly knew what trail of thought flashed through his mind. "And nope. Not of the same kind. Two per aisle max. And I don't want you to just grab something. I want you to want what you choose, got it?"  
  
Sam gave him a tentative nod and took a deep inhale to brace himself.  
"There are two old ladies and a kid in here. Nothing you've to be scared of, Sam. Okay? I know you can do it." Dean patted his shoulder and turned back around to grab the cart.  
Sam stayed where he was. Frozen.  
He gazed along the short aisle and thought.  
  
There were black and red noodles. Even green ones. Big and small ones. But did he really like to choose noodles? His head snapped up. "Pop Tarts.", He murmured to himself and his lips formed into a small smirk. "Pop Tarts.", he repeated with more enthusiasm.  
Sam rose his head and lurked around, trying to spot the aisle where they could possibly be. Sure they didn't belong to noodles and rice.  
  
The omega started to move. First tentatively, always keeping Dean in his line of sight. But also not letting the two old ladies, the kid and the cashier out under his watch for longer than a couple of minutes.  
It turned out to be pretty stressful to not lose sight of his mate and the others while trying to choose in between "Brownie", "Cookie Crisp", "Oreo" and "Strawberry".  
  
Dean sure seemed as if he was focused on finding the things he had put on a list, but he wasn't. Mainly, he had at least a sideways glance at the younger man at all times. What happened to complicate putting the right things into the cart?  
Later on, Dean sure wouldn't know why he'd put baby wipes into the cart ...  
  
Sam Harvelle stumbled over another couple of things besides Pop Tarts. Wunderbars, Peanut-butter Cups, Ketchup-Chips. When he went by the isle with fruits and vegetables, his arms were full with ... junk food. A pack of Nerds in his mouth, since they always slipped from his grasp and picking them up again with his arms full, wasn't that easy.  
  
Dean frowned at his mate. He could've came to him and dump that shit into the cart. Then again ... this was Sam he was thinking about and Sam surely didn't think about that right now.  
The alpha had to smirk at that.  
Nope. Sam definitely didn't think about THAT.  
  
Only when it looked like that one apple was too much for what he was already harvesting in his arms, Dean pushed the cart up right next to Sam.  
"C'mon. Put that into the cart. Can't have you trip over something.", He winked at the younger man with a wide grin.  
  
Sam did as he was told. And then realized that this wasn't only five items.  
That was when he noticed that during the last quarter of his solo run that he hadn't paid attention to anything that had happened around him. He hadn’t even noticed what Dean was doing or if he was still close.  
  
"It's fine. You were about to get some apples.", Dean pointed into the direction, where Sam had been trying to choose in between those incredibly red ones and the green ones. "Get some bananas too ... and blueberries."  
Sam smiled broadly at the alpha and took off towards the apples.  
Barney's also had a few stands with clothes there. Mainly for females and only a couple of jeans and sweats for men, close to the counter of the cashier. Sam, who strolled through the small market, came to a stop right in front of the stand.  
  
Something nice had caught his eyes. It wasn't quite white, more cream with hazel-brown lace. Sam bit his lower lip and looked around with his head ducked, making sure that no one was watching.  
No one was watching.  
  
His fingertips graced over the soft lace and he tilted his head to the side, thinking.  
Dean, who was an isle away from where his mate was sighting the stand with clothes, stopped in his tracks to watch him. The omega looked around and Dean saw him touch a certain piece of fabric. The way his hands touched it, so careful, as if he would be able to tear it with just the touch of his fingers.  
  
The rich odor of jasmine filled the store, and if that didn't do anything to Dean, it'd be surprisingly sad. In fact, it made the alpha growl in the back of his throat and his manhood jump to life.  
He watched Sam take it from the stand and eyed the piece of clothing with a tiny smile, not allowing himself to fully give into the joy of laying his eyes on it.  
  
It was a dress. Much like the ones of Bobby's wife, only that it seemed to be a bit bigger and that the color was a different one. It looked tight on the upper half, but the lower half was cut wide so that it'd lay in generous folds.  
The linen was of a soft cream color and the hazel colored lace covering it whole matched it perfectly. There were short sleeves, which would lay in folds if someone wore it and the neckline was cut deep on the back and a bit higher on the front.  
  
Sam sighed and his gaze darkened again, his joyful tiny smile fading into something much sadder. The omega reminded himself that he wasn't supposed to like things like that. He wasn't a girl – at least not completely. Nonetheless, Sam wasn't supposed to like things like that.  
He was supposed to like jeans and shirts and … other masculine stuff.  
Dean watched his mate put the dress back and frowned. It took him a whole minute to figure out what had changed and when he finally did, he growled. Actually growled.  
  
“You done over there?”, Dean called out, keeping his voice soft.  
Sam jumped at that and turned around on his heels, his cheeks a deep red as he felt caught in the act. All he could manage was a jerky nod.  
They then went to pay and store their purchases in the Impala's truck.  
When they sat in the car, ready to head back home, Dean threw his hand over his face and made an annoyed sound. “Wait here.”, he said and stole a peck from Sam's cheek. “I've forgot something.”  
  
And with that he headed out again and vanished in the market.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Mercifully they got back home an hour later.  
Sam's mood had shifted from scared shitless from when they had driven off, to happily ever after when they emerged from the car. The omega carried one of the plastic bags with his not-injured arm and stormed forward to hold the door open for Dean.  
  
They stored their purchased food away together.  
Dean still wondered how the baby wipes had gotten into his cart.  
Sam hummed along the lines of some song which had played on the radio while they had been driving home.  
Sam bumped with his hip into Dean's.  
  
Dean nudged him back with his elbow.  
"You don't wanna put them away?", he asked and gestured at the bag with the sweets.  
Sam shrugged and took the bag in his hand. "Nah. Won't last that long anyway."  
Dean cocked both eyebrows at his mate and frowned. "You ain't gonna eat all that at once, will ya?"  
The omega seemed to think about it, then shrugged. "Should I not?"  
Dean frowned even more. Then hummed. "You wanna make yourself sick?" He asked back.  
Sam thought for another couple of moments, then eyed the bag. "'m not gettin' sick."  
"You will." The alpha eyed Sam curiously.  
  
There was a glimpse of something that hadn't been there before. Something like ... the need to rebel. To revolt. To be simply stubborn because he could. He rose both hands in surrender and pressed his lips together.  
"Okay. But don't think I'll baby you when you're rolling around in bed, not knowing what to do because you've stomach-cramps, sweetheart." This was new for him. Sam being – well – stubborn.  
  
Sam's face contorted blank for a short moment, then his lips twitched and his features changed.  
Dean bit back a laugh. He'd never seen a face like that on Sam. All bitchy and ... just bitchy. A bitch-face. Sam was throwing a bitch-face at him.  
He couldn't believe it.  
  
"I won't make myself sick.", the omega murmured and grabbed the nerds and peanut-butter cups from the bag.  
He sounded ... pissed?  
What the hell? Was Sam just acting like a girl on her period?  
Dean opened his mouth to say something, but snapped it shut, before something stupid came out of it.  
"Sorry.", the omega murmured after a while.  
Dean sighed and shook his head. "Why are you sorry?”  
  
Sam shrugged, the corners of his lips tugged downwards as he fidgeted with the orange packaging of the peanut-butter cups.  
"It's ... I feel different. - Like ... I don't know ..." Sam sighed and rubbed over his face in defeat. "It feels disturbing."  
The alpha nodded. "You'd like to ... punch me in the face for telling you what to do?" Dean was definitely joking, but the words came over his lips as he was utterly serious.  
A smile tugged on Sam's lips. "No ... It's not that. - Not entirely." His words too were a bit too serious for the fact that he was kind of joking.  
  
Dean's smile faded rapidly, as he tried to figure out what Sam wanted to tell him with that.  
Sam snorted and punched Dean in the shoulder lightly.  
That too was new. There was a bit more force behind the punch than it may usually had been, in case Sam had ever done such a thing before. It was a playful act to show his adoration toward Dean and wasn’t meant to hurt him in any way, of course.  
  
The ex-hunter still tried to figure out how serious this was.  
"I'm joking." The omega sighed.  
"Hope so. Otherwise I'd have to bend you over my knee and spank your ass." Dean eyed him up and down, before reaching for Sam's hand and intertwining his fingers with the omega's.  
Sam looked up at the older man curiously and tilted his head to the side.  
Dean noticed vibes radiating form the young omega, which hadn't been there before. Sam even … he couldn't quite name it, but he appeared different than before.  
  
A beat of awkward silence.  
  
More awkward silence.  
  
“Couch? Cuddling? TV?” Sam waved the peanut-butter cups in front of Dean's face. “Sugar-shock?”  
Dean chuckled. “Yeah. Sounds great. I'm in.”  
They took the bag with them into the living room and placed it beside the couch where the both of them could reach it just fine. They ate through half of the bag's contents before they eventually gave up.  
  
Sam had his head resting in Dean's lap, chewing on the last remains of a snickers. He then sighed contentedly and snuggled into his mate's thighs. Dean had his fingers buried in that ridiculously soft mop of hair.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

A couple of days, a whole bunch of research and two other towns burning down to ashes later, and they weren't any further in figuring out what the demon had planned.  
Sam had stayed up late those past days, trying to remember, to figure out what he hadn't been able to before. Dean had given Garth's file to him and had gone through it with his mate in hopes that it'd trigger some of his memories.  
  
And it had. Just not those that were important to them.  
It was late already.  
Music from the radio was playing silently in the background. The both of them were sitting at the kitchen-table, hovering over books and surfing through the web.  
  
Dean eventually leaned back in his chair with a sigh and rubbed over his face. “Lets turn in for tonight.”  
Sam peeked up from the old dusty book and nodded. He too was tired and – by all means – he wouldn't want to miss their shower.  
The omega smiled and nodded. “Good idea.”  
  
Sam laid a sheet of paper into the book and shut it. Dean turned the laptop down and closed the lid.  
Dean was a few steps ahead of Sam, when they turned off the lights in the kitchen and headed through the living room.  
They made it into their bedroom without incidence and started to shed their clothes. Usually Sam would wait until Dean was done and already under the shower, so that he could get undressed without the alpha watching him. But not tonight.  
  
Dean was stunned that the omega didn’t wait for him to vanish in the bathroom. Hesitant and slow, Sam unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged it off. His tee shirt followed.  
  
The alpha watched him out of the corner of his eyes and slowed down to give Sam time to catch up with him. Still shy as he was, Sam would cover his private parts with his big hands as he waited for Dean to be done.  
  
There was no touching until they stood under the warm water though. Sam would stand with his back turned to his mate, taking care that he'd hide his front just perfectly from Dean…something the alpha didn't like at all. There was no reason for Sam to hide. Even is Sam weighed two-hundred pound or had some real ugly disease, Dean always wanted his mate to be comfortable with him. Dean felt as if it was time to make a point, to show him that he wouldn't care, no matter what the younger man tried to hide from him.  
Besides, there was no need to, right? After all he'd seen him naked a couple of times already. The only difference was, that his mate had been unconscious.  
  
Sam felt strong hands on his bicep, urging him to turn around. The omega could only muster so much resistance and went with it.  
“Dean … don't.”, he warned shakily, hiding himself as well as he could.  
“Everything's fine, baby.”, his mate whispered.  
  
Dean was so close, the omega could feel his warm breath against his chest. He took a step backwards and let his gaze sweep over the wet body before him. The alpha turned them around, so that Sam was under the spray of warm water, as he kept on staring.  
  
He brushed wet strands of hazel-brown hair out of the omega's face and tugged his chin up. “Handsome.”, the alpha whispered huskily. “Nothin' to be ashamed of, Sammy. Nothin' at all.”  
Sam blinked nervously at the older man and cast his look aside again, fixing a spot on the far wall. “Please.”  
“Look at you.” Dean's hands slid down Sam's upper arms, the wet bandage and while one got to rest on his hip, the other one took his wrist and guided his hand aside. “Nothing to be afraid of.”  
  
Dean was still looking into the omega's eyes. “I won't do anything, okay?” He didn't see the scars. The claw-marks. He didn't see any of the things Sam was afraid to show.  
Sam gave him a jerky nod, concentrating on the sparkling green in his alpha's eyes.  
His mate told the truth. He wouldn't do anything Sam didn't want him to. Sometimes people needed to be nudged (or rather shoved) into a specific direction, just so they knew it was okay to do that certain thing.  
  
Sam needed that. No clue how Dean knew it, he just did. Otherwise his boyfriend – his soulmate – would continue to hide himself under wide clothes and shabby jeans.  
“See?” Dean let go of his wrist, when the arm hung loosely at Sam's side and continued with the other one. “There's nothing you have to hide.”  
  
Sam truly felt bare and naked and … uncomfortable. The way Dean kept looking him in the eyes, how tender he touched him. Those soft palms against his water-slick skin.  
The omega felt warmth spread in his lower abdomen. He could barely push it away or hold it back or whatever he wanted to try. He couldn't. He tried to think about all the ugly stuff he'd seen in his past.  
  
And though, there were Dean's hands against his skin and reassuring words in his ear as the alpha stepped closer, Sam was all soft flesh and tender skin beneath his touch.  
Dean wouldn't look down, even when he felt something velvet-soft and hard poke into his thigh. He didn't need to. After all he could figure it out without casting his look down.  
  
Sam's mouth went dry, when Dean leaned in and tilted his head down. Soft pouty cushions met sweet tender pillows. And then Dean was right up against him, their naked chests touching. All skin and muscles and a lingering kiss. Strong arms wrapped around the taller man and pulled him in closer, as Dean licked into his mate's mouth.  
It took Sam a moment, but then he responded instantly, kissing back and taking the older man's tongue in, sucking on it and licking back.  
  
But that'd be all that was happening.  
When they parted, both men got on with the task at hand to get all cleaned up and ready for bed. Of course they kissed another couple of times, but Dean wouldn’t touch him in any way beyond the waistband.  
It was a question of trust, and Dean believed in it that he'd know when Sam was ready for all the rest.  
  
When they got out of the shower, the alpha took immediate care of Sam's wound. He cleaned it, inspected it and bandaged it up again.  
Naturally, Sam cuddled up next to Dean as soon as they lay in bed. He'd bury his face in the ex-hunter's chest and make sleepy noises.  
“I've an apartment”, Sam spoke up surprised, as if he himself had just realized that. “Something like an apartment anyway.”  
  
Dean hummed at that and when Sam tried to pull back, he wouldn't let him. Instead, he tugged his mate's head back where it belonged. “Tomorrow.”, he murmured. “Tomorrow, baby.”

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Tomorrow came early for the both of them.  
Neither of them mentioned the thing with the apartment though.  
Sam had tried, but Dean – somehow – wouldn't listen and he'd say that they'd talk later about it. That they had no reason to hurry, since it seemed like the apartment was somewhere down in Kansas, in a little town – his hometown.  
  
And maybe that was one of the reasons why the younger Winchester wouldn't want to talk about going there. Because it was too close to where it all had happened. Too close to that one place which had been his home once.  
Sam was up at shy before dawn, as he got woken by the first rays of sunlight flooding the room.  
Dean not so much. He slept like a stone.  
  
The omega snuggled into his alpha's chest, relishing in the warmth which radiated from Dean. He pulled his hands in between himself and his mate, his ear above Dean's heart where he'd hear his heartbeat.  
And he drifted off to sleep again. It was a light slumber though. He heard everything. Dean's breaths, his slow beating heart. The birds outside singing.  
  
But what he didn't hear, were the footfalls on their porch and the faint voice calling out something. What led him bolt upright, were the knocks.  
Dean woke with him, sitting up much slower and made a sound.  
“Sam?”, he asked and rubbed over his face.  
The knocks were heard again. They sounded hesitant.  
  
The ex-hunter gazed at the clock on the nightstand and groaned. It was Friday. Half past eight in the morning.  
Dean actually couldn't remember sleeping that long in what felt like an eon.  
“Bobby?”, Sam asked and turned half-lidded eyes at his mate.  
Dean shrugged. “Probably. - You gonna get it? I gotta use the bathroom.”  
The younger man nodded groggily and gave the alpha a nice long kiss. “Sure.”  
  
Sam rolled out of bed and patted barefoot over the wooden panels, his naked feet slapping against the hard wood. He wiped his hair back and tugged it behind his ears.  
Of course he figured it would be Robert Singer. Or Ellen. Or maybe Jim. No one could possibly imagine how wide awake and shocked he was to see John Winchester standing before him when he opened the door.  
Looking all cool and set with that strong scent of cologne.  
  
“Mister Winchester?”, Sam croaked out. Preferably he'd had slammed the door shut. Right into the man's face. That was if he would've been able to.  
But he wasn't.  
“Dean's in the bathroom.” Sam stepped aside and made place for John to enter.  
The man brushed past him and stopped in the middle of their living room. Rather curiously he took in the furniture and his son's belongings.  
  
Sam closed the door and leaned against it, keeping an eye on Dean's father. He watched John Winchester take a deep inhale, as his shoulders rose and could imagine what the man may have thought right then.  
“We just … woke up ...”, Sam tried to explain why he was in his pyjamas and why his hair stuck in all the wrong directions. Why there was no breakfast and to explain the lack of coffee.  
“I see.” John's voice was thunder echoing through the silence of the Serengeti. The piercing screech of a banshee being stabbed. “Wouldn't have thought of my son sleeping in.” What seemed to mean more like: Wouldn't have thought of my son going all soft. It kind of sounded taunting.  
  
Sam was about to open his mouth and tell him that he'd go and prepare breakfast – so that it at least looked as if he was doing SOMETHING to deserve his son's affection.  
Why would he feel like the worst scum in that man's presence anyway? He had saved his damn life.  
But that was when Dean emerged from their bedroom. “What the hell, Bobby. - We're-” He stopped dead in his tracks and his soft smile morphed into a cool expression as his eyes fell on his father. “John.”  
  
“Son.” The older Winchester's voice sounded tender and caring. Wanting.  
“What the hell are you doing here?” Of course Sam's alpha wouldn't allow a possible danger to be this close to what was his. He gazed passed his father at Sam. His eyes cold and pointing. “Why'd you let him in?”  
This wasn't the way Sam was used to Dean talking to him. It was all demanding and cold, as if he had done something horribly wrong. And maybe he had.  
  
The omega ducked his head and looked at his feet.  
“He didn't let me. I didn't give him a chance to decide.”, John spoke up, in much the same manner as Dean had.  
“Why're you here?” The younger Winchester made a few steps into the room, keeping a wary eye on his father. Now he was in a way better position to jump the old man in case he'd turn on Sam.  
Which Dean hoped he wouldn't have to.  
  
“I'm here to talk to the both of you.” John seemed calm. So far. “To apologize.”  
Dean huffed out a breath.  
Sam's head snapped up and he gazed at the older hunter confused.  
“Nothing to apologize, old man. Not as if you've done something wrong, right?” Dean made another step towards Sam.  
  
“I might've done some things wrong in the past.” He cleared his throat. “But that doesn't mean that I don't mean what I said.”  
“Might?” the ex-hunter chuckled. “That's rich. Why can't you just say that you were wrong? That it was NOT okay to kill all those people? That you knocked me out and broke into my house to kill what's actually mine?” Another step.  
  
“Dean-”, Sam talked up, but got stopped by his alpha with a risen hand and a pissed look. “Shut up, Sam. - It's about me and John talkin' it out.”  
“Look.” His father sighed heavily. “I understand why you're upset, but-”  
  
“Upset? UPSET? That's what you think I am?” Dean's voice rose. “I'm disappointed. I'm pissed. I'm disappointed and pissed, because my own blood let me believe you were dead. You didn't even come for me. You've lied to me. For the sake of some damn case you were wrong about anyway. You dragged me into those woods, without doing proper research on that werewolf. Tell you what, John: You ain't no father of the year. You never were.”, he spat at him. “There's nothing you could possibly make up to. Especially not with an apology.” Dean's face was grim. “At least not to me. And sure as hell not to Sam either. He saved your sorry ass and you came here and tried to kill him. Instead of coming to me and Bobby and telling us what you know about it. So that we'd figure out something TOGETHER.”  
  
Dean's chest was rising and falling frantically.  
John let his head drop and nodded to himself. “I know that, son. I do. And I am sorry for raising you like a soldier instead of a child. But I had to. I needed you to be able to protect yourself from what's out there.”  
“What I needed was a home. A real one. No hotel-rooms and no back-seat of a car. I needed a real home and a father who'd take me out to play baseball. Dammit.”  
  
“Tell me what to do to make it up to you.” John shrunk an inch with each word of his son.  
So did his voice.  
Dean sighed. He huffed out a breath and shook his head. At that, he was at a lack of words. “How do you think you can make it up to me?” He shook his head.  
John didn't seem to know what to say either.  
  
“Thought so.”, Dean mumbled.  
“The demon's name's Meg. At least her vessel's name is Meg Masters. The demon who possesses her's named Asteroth. We could try to summon her. Interrogate her.”  
Sam and Dean shared a sort glance.  
  
“You're comin' up with that … now?” Dean couldn't quite believe it. “Any more secrets? Got another kid somewhere? Playin' ball with it while leaving me alone in that damn motel-room for freakin' weeks?”  
  
“I deserve that.”, John murmured. “But it's not as you think. Bobby figured it out. A hunter called and told him about a demon spilling bullshit about the end of humanity and all that. And that there're only eight seals left to be broken and that no one could stop it. The hunter asked questions. The right ones as it seemed. And the demon told him about Asteroth.”  
Dean sucked in a deep breath. “'s that so?”  
John nodded dutifully.  
“That's all?” Dean rose both eyebrows.  
His father nodded again.  
  
“Good. You brought the message. Now you can go.” Dean stayed strong. Though, his eyes burned with unshed tears.  
John cleared his throat.  
A beat of silence followed.  
“Dean. I.-”  
  
“No. I want you to leave. Just … leave, okay?” Of course he couldn't give in that easy. His father should feel how it felt to be pushed away and what it was like to practically be all on his own.  
John then left.  
The morning and late noon went by in absolute silence. Sam was hovering over an old book and Dean was trying to find stuff about Asteroth and how to summon her – more important was, that he'd know for what they had to be prepared when they'd have her caught.  
They'd already lost enough people so far.  
  
After a fast lunch, Dean's mood seemed to lift again. So did Sam's.  
They watched the news together on CNN. And went back to do research. Dean called Bobby and the old man came by to make a quick check up about what they had found out so far.  
  
Seemed as if there was plenty of information about that certain demon though. If you knew where to look.  
  
It was obvious for everyone how shaken up Dean was about the thing with his father. Though, Sam wouldn't want to wake sleeping dogs, so he kept to himself and would only open his mouth when he got asked something.  
The last thing he wanted was Dean being angry with him.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Sam was sitting cross-legged in the recliner in the living room, one of Bobby's giant old books in his lap.  
Dean was somewhere in the kitchen, preparing sandwiches or something like that. The omega hadn't been listening that closely to where the older man was about to go several minutes before.  
  
The alpha leaned against the counter, staring out of the window and watching birds collecting tiny branches and weed for their nests.  
He gazed back over his shoulder towards the living-room, smiling to himself.  
Sam was doing one hell of a job over there. He seemed kind of obsessed with finding something about the thirteen seals.  
So far no luck.  
  
To be honest, the alpha was a bit concerned, that Sam would take it too serious. Not that it wasn't serious. The world's existence was depending on them figuring out how to stop the seals from being broken and what they were exactly.  
  
The omega was working through those books each day and close to every night now. The lack of sleep and the stress he was putting himself in, written all over the younger man's features.  
Dean abandoned his task of making sandwiches and shook his head at his own depressing thoughts. They wouldn't let it come that far. They'd find a way out of this and they'd stop the downfall of the world they knew.  
  
Maybe not today, or tomorrow, but they'd do it.  
The most important thing was, to survive this. That Sam survived this. That the omega was well and that … Hell, Dean didn't exactly know what he wanted to tell himself exactly.  
Maybe it was just the lack of sleep making him feel that way right now.  
  
The ex-hunter pushed away from the counter and sauntered back into the living room, which he had left a couple of minutes ago. He walked up before Sam and laid his hands on the giant book. Gently, he pulled it from the omega's grasp, shut it and laid it on the floor beside the recliner.  
Sam was about to protest, but got silenced by a pair of soft cushions.  
  
Dean urged him backwards, until Sam was leaning against the back-lean and braced his hands on the side-leans, so not to crush into the younger man.  
Sam moaned into the kiss and made a ray of other sounds.  
The kiss was soft and gentle and sweet. Luring and intoxicating at the same time. Sam couldn't but give into it. His hands found their way to Dean's sides, where they fisted the other male's shirt to pull him closer.  
  
Dean gave in. Of course he did. How was he supposed to withstand Sam in any way?  
So Dean sank to his knees before the recliner and Sam went with it. He bowed forward and his long legs slid from it, coming on the ground to Dean's left and right side. Dean's fingers tangled in his omega's soft strands of hair, pulling him further into the kiss.  
  
Soon, their kissing turned more heated. Tongues and teeth involved even though the kiss was soft.  
Dean trailed a line of kisses along the omega's yaw-line and neck, across his collarbone, where he pulled the fabric of his button down aside to taste more of him.  
  
Sam went with it and let him. He leaned back and let his head rest against the recliner, while the alpha devoured him like sweet pie. Ever so slowly, Dean unbuttoned the younger man's shirt, tracing with his tongue and lips, down his solar plexus and over the curve of his rib-cage. Soon Sam's shirt was opened and tugged aside.  
  
Dean was licking and nipping at the soft pale skin beneath, right above his navel, his hands roaming over the exposed flesh.  
Sam shuddered beneath him. His eyes closed. His fingers digging into the leather of the recliner, when Dean went further down towards the waistband of his jeans.  
For the first time between the both of them, Dean laid his hands on Sam's belt and fly, pulling it open. He felt the hard bulge beneath the denim and could scent the omega's arousal.  
  
Sam gasped, when the fly popped open and the zipper got pulled down. “Dean.” he mumbled surprised.  
“Let me.”, Dean whispered against his skin. “Trust me.”  
Sam trusted the alpha. His alpha. But he wasn't sure if he could trust himself. If it was okay to let Dean go that far and if he would be able to stand the other man's touch down there. Not because he was insecure about wanting it with Dean. No, that wasn't it. It was about being insecure about himself. He was far from what others called a super-model and Dean … Dean was just perfect. All tanned skin and firm muscles.  
  
That man could have anyone, but he chose Sam.  
Dean hooked his fingers into Sam's jeans and boxers and hummed low. He looked up at the younger man's face, right when the omega's eyes fluttered open and gazed down at him. Without words, they told each other what they wanted. Without words, Dean assured him, that this was right and okay, and that he didn't have to be afraid and Sam told him without opening his mouth, that he would follow Dean's lead.  
  
Sam lifted his hips from the recliner and Dean pulled the jeans and boxers down in one go, so that they ended up discharged beside Dean's legs.  
Sam's muscles grew taut and hard and tenseness tainted his scent sour … so sweet.  
“Relax, baby boy.”, Dean whispered, as he stroke up and down the insides of Sam's thighs. “I promise I'll … I won't go too far, okay? You'll tell me.” Dean looked up at him. His eyes open and honest, locking his gaze with the omega. “You tell me and I'll stop. I won't go further. Not if you don't want me to.”  
  
Sam looked down at Dean, his eyes huge and innocent. He wanted this to happen. He did. But he felt so insecure. All he needed was to make that one step. To jump over his shadow and let Dean show him.  
That was all he needed and though he was just short of calling it off and running.  
Dean picked up on that. He wouldn't have been his mate if he wouldn't. “It's fine. Just … Lean back.”  
  
And Sam did.  
Dean wouldn't go for the crown jewels instantly. He continued where he had stopped before. He kissed and licked over Sam's belly, stroke the insides of this thighs, his hands wandering closer to his middle each time they'd stroke upwards. In between reassuring and calming words, Dean's nose and mouth would travel southward.  
  
At the first touch of velvet-soft lips with the crown of his manhood, Sam took a sharp inhale of air.  
Dean didn't stop though. He nuzzled and devoured the tip of his omega's cock, holding it with one hand, while his other one traced over the area where every other man used to have his balls.  
But Sam hadn't. And Dean wondered for a brief moment what difference that might make. Until his finger-tip got caught on Sam's clit.  
  
Dean made a sound in awe, as he brushed feather-lightly over the pair of soft folds, sending jolts of pleasure through the omega's body.  
A sighed moan fell from Samuel Harvelle's lips, trying to will himself to relax and switch off that nagging feeling that this wasn't right. That he was supposed to stop Dean for their both sakes. Sooner or later, the alpha would realize what a mistake it had been if he'd claim Sam as his and that would hurt even more.  
So much more, than Sam could give.  
  
Though, all doubts tumbled over the cliff of his mind, when his alpha latched onto him once more and slipped his finger in between Sam's soft and warm folds.  
Dean took him deeper into his mouth, curling his tongue around him, while his finger continued to trace the swollen, parted area beneath.  
  
Sam made those sweet sounds, whenever his finger would slip in between them, brushing over that hard bud at the very top of it. He could feel the wetness of his mate's arousal where he was touching him, wondering how he'd feel down there.  
But the ex-hunter was capable of uttering at least as much control over his instincts. They weren't that far yet. Maybe Sam wouldn't like that kind of affection and … he honestly didn't want to screw that up. Who knew what the omega had lived through in his past and what'd make him uncomfortable due to that.  
  
So he stuck to what he was doing right now, and damn, if that wasn't turning him on even more. Not only the way Sam sighed and moaned, also the way he pushed back down against his finger and up into his mouth, as if he was torn in between what Dean was offering to him.  
  
Feeling the wetness between Sam's legs and the heaviness of his member in his mouth, made Dean want to sink into him right then and there. But he reminded himself once again that neither of them was ready for that. Well, that wasn't quite true. Dean was always ready. But Sam wasn't. That meant that neither he nor Sam were.  
  
The alpha hummed and moaned around Sam's manhood, keeping his mouth wet and smooth for him as he wrapped his lips around him tighter.  
Sam was lost in a world of pleasant emotions and jolts of ecstasy, feeling Dean's finger slip in between his folds once again, dragging it over his clit and deeper down, nudging at the entrance of his vagina.  
The omega tilted his hips upwards and spread his legs wider, showing his alpha that he wanted this. That he wanted him right there and now and that all his shame seemed to have vanished.  
And who was Dean to deny him that?  
  
His finger slipped past his folds, into that hot tunnel of Sam's. Both men moaned in unison. Dean could only imagine how incredible this would feel when it'd be his cock in there. Surrounded by heat and wetness, buried to the hilt.  
  
He moaned again, his own aching member straining against soft fabric. He glanced up at Sam's face, seeing nothing but bliss and pleasure written all over it. The way his cheeks were flushed red. His eyes closed. His moth parted slightly.  
This was heaven.  
Dean's heaven.  
Having Sam all laid out for him, writhing and making those sweet little sounds because of him.  
That was heaven. There was nothing more beautiful in the whole damn world. Nothing that'd make him happier right now, than seeing his mate like that.  
  
As Sam's breaths started to quicken, and his inner muscles contracted more and more, Dean sped his pace up. He sucked on him harder and drove his finger inside the younger man in a punishing pace.  
And when Sam came apart for him, Dean followed.  
Dean made sure that he had to change his boxers, and made himself ready to swallow whatever Sam had to give.  
  
He found himself utterly surprised that there wasn't anything besides a flood of slick pouring out of where his finger was buried and the frantic twitches of Sam's manhood in his mouth.  
But there was no come. No come at all.  
Later on, Dean wondered if it was okay to think about things like that. After all he had known that Sam was different and had suspected, that this part may would work out different too. He had been positive about going down that road, no matter how sex would look with Sam.  
  
Sam softened in his mate's mouth then and Dean pulled off of him, causing the younger man to whimper at the loss. The alpha got up on his shaky knees and feet and leaned into Sam, sharing a tender kiss.  
Sam responded instantly and smiled lazily against the ex-hunter's lips.  
“You promised.”, he whispered sleepily, his eyes only half open.  
  
Dean grinned, smelling that his mate was more than just satisfied with how this had worked out.  
“You've kept your promise.” Sam caught the alpha's lips in his once more. “I … I wanna do this to you too ...”  
Dean chuckled and brushed a sweaty strand of hair out of Sam's face. “Too late, baby boy. Next time though ...” He stole a peck from Sam's lips and one from his cheek. “C'mon. Let’s take a nap.”  
  
The both of them then headed into the bedroom after getting all cleaned up, and slept until the late afternoon, when the sun was starting to set behind the horizon of car-wrecks and trees.

…. to be continued


	28. Cream & Brown Lace

Fields Of Jasmine  
Chapter 28 ~ Cream & Brown Lace

John hadn't visited them again. 

 

Not that Dean cared anyway. Then again ... he had thought about what his father had told him. About the apology. About the pleading way he had looked at him. But that didn't change any of what John had done.   
Sometimes you couldn't just forget about things and you sure as hell couldn't fix some of them too.   
But here they were, basically working the same case with the same purpose. 

 

They weren't supposed to fight.   
And though Dean Winchester was at least an as stubborn idiot as his father was. But – yes there was a but – he didn't want to be his father, and he knew that his father would've never forgiven his son to lie to him.   
So what was he supposed to do?   
Keep on fighting the old man? Or rather giving in?   
What definitely wouldn't mean that he trusted him again. Nope. No way. Specially not around Sam. He had tried to kill him after all. And even if it looked like John understood, it only looked like it. There was no proof that he was also thinking that way and not just saying it. 

 

Once a liar, always a liar. That was what Dean had been taught. By his own flesh and blood. So why slipping that believe over board now? Because this time it was his father?   
Hell no. That wouldn't be happening.   
As long as he couldn't be sure that Sam'd be defending himself – let alone being able to – he couldn't let himself be fooled by the old man.   
Dean sighed and wiped over his face. He then shifted and groaned and sniffed. What thoughts to wake up to, huh?   
Instead of thinking about how it'd be to have Sam's soft mouth wrapped around his member, or how fabulous it'd feel to have Sam kissing him, he was thinking about his father. 

 

That bastard. 

 

Dean shifted and turned his head to the side, so that he was able to watch Sam's soft features while he slept. His cheeks were tainted a faint red, his lips were parted slightly. Tender looking eyelids fluttered for a moment, before they settled down again.   
Nope, Dean Winchester couldn't be a happier man. 

 

He had everything he needed right here in his arms. All the love and tenderness his heart had unknowingly longed for was right here with him. He couldn't understand why he had thought so bad about that man back when they had first met.   
So the alpha lay there and watched Sam sleep. He felt the rise and fall of Sam's torso against the side of his chest and warm puffs of air against the exposed skin of his neck, where Sam's head was resting on his shoulder. 

 

A smile tugged on the ex hunter's lips as he thought about a certain piece of fabric, which he had been hiding successfully from Sam's eyes. He imagined how it'd look like when the omega'd wear it and what Sam might say about it.   
If he'd like it, or rather not, or ... if he had been completely mistaken by his mate's actions back at Barney's.   
No. Dean Winchester was sure that he was making the right call. 

 

The omega – his omega – had looked incredible back at Bobby's. And for the short amount of time, while Sam had thought that he'd stay undiscovered, he looked happy and all good. The hazel of his eyes had lit up like barely something was able to – except when he was looking at Dean of course.   
Dean had been waiting for the right time to share this with his mate. To give it to him. But they haven't had enough time for that though. Once it was because of the case, then because John'd stop by ... at other times it just hadn't felt right. 

 

And Dean wanted it to be perfect. He wanted Sam to feel comfortable with it – in it. So yes. Dean Winchester had been waiting for the right moment, so that Sam'd have time to adjust or ... however to call it. Besides, they were always together lately, and he wanted to surprise Sam and not just give it to him. He wanted Sam to find it like a present and let him choose if he wanted it or not.   
Most of all, he didn't want Sam to feel pushed into something, which Dean was sure he wasn't doing. 

 

Because Sam'd like it, right? 

 

The way he had looked at it, the way his scent had changed into the sweetest ever, had been stunning.   
So here he was, Dean Winchester, trying to figure out how to do it and how to get Sam's attention drawn at something else while he'd prepare things.   
Then again, if they'd leave the bedroom and Dean'd go back in to prepare it, Sam could possibly walk in on him, since there weren't any keys for the rooms. 

 

This wasn't as easy as Dean had figured it would be. What a pity. So he needed a plan and since he had no clue how to plan something like that, he started to treat it like a hunt. He calculated all possibilities and what he'd need to do beforeheand so that it'd work. All in that short amount of time until Sam would wake up.   
And very soon, he had a solution for it and a solide time-plan.   
He pulled his mate closer and turned to his side. He then wrapped his arms around Sam and buried his nose into that soft mop of hair. 

 

Sam made a small sound and he shifted, adjusting to his mate like no one else would do. For someone from the outter world it may looked as Sam tried to crawl into Dean and the other way round. Dean looked as if he was trying to fuse the both of them together, so that he wouldn't ever have to let Sam go.   
To carry him safe and sound inside of him, protected from everything evil and bad out there in the world. 

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Sam stirred.   
He made a small soft sound and buried his face deeper into his alpha's chest. His arms around his mate tightened for a short amount of time, before his muscles seemed to relax again.   
"You wakin' up, Sunshine?" The hunter grinned broadly. Not only because of the way Sam used to wake up all cuddly those days, also because he had made up his plan about how he'd give the dress to Sam. 

 

His omega hummed softly. And shook his head. Though, he pried one of his eyes open and tilted his head back, just enough to have a bleary look into the room.   
It didn't look that bright already. "Nope.", he mumbled.   
"Waffles.", Dean sing-sang. "Strawberries." He carded his fingers through Sam's thick mop of hair. "Chocolate sauce." Yep, he knew how to push the omega's buttons just fine.   
"Pancakes.", Sam croaked out. "Blueberries." He paused.   
Dean could practically feel Sam smirk into his chest.   
"AND whip cream ... with sugar.", Sam added.  
"You're tryin' to negotiate with me 'bout what's for breakfast?" The ex hunter huffed out a breath. What a sneaky bastard. "Fine ... Waffles. Blueberries and chocolate sauce."  
"Pancakes, Blueberries. Whip cream.", the omega repeated.   
"Pancakes, strawberries and chocolate sauce." Dean stopped massaging Sam's scalp.   
"Waffles, Blueberries, whip cream and chocolate sauce." Sam wouldn't give up. This was one of their smaller playful battles.   
"Waffles, Blueberries, whip cream and chocolate sauce it is.", the ex hunter gave in with a huge sigh. 

 

"In bed." The omega yawned and pressed further into Dean. "Then I may consider following your suggestion to get out of bed." All muffled and barely understandable, due that he spoke into his alpha's shirt. 

 

Dean chuckled and sniffed. "You're a hard negotiating partner. I've to give you that." He nudged Sam backwards, so that he was able to pull his arm free from under his mate.   
Lazily, Sam rolled on his back, but kept his eyes shut. Even when he felt Dean trying lure him into a kiss. Sam stayed hard.   
Dean groaned and got up from the bed then, limping his way out of the bedroom.   
Half an hour later, they had breakfast in bed.   
They sat together, proped up against the headboard, a big plate in between them with Waffles, Blueberries, strawberries, whip cream AND chocolate sauce.   
They ate in silence and slow without making a sound. 

 

Every now and then Sam'd gaze out of the small window, eyeing the bright sky longingly.   
"We should have breakfast outside as soon as it's warm enough.", the omega murmured between bites.   
The alpha nodded his approval, his mouth stuffed full with pancakes and strawberries.   
There was something bugging Sam, Dean could tell. Already since a couple of days. Sure, the omega had tried to talk about it, but Dean had avoided it like the pest.   
Sam had seemed as if he had caught up on that and had decided to shut up and wouldn't mention the apartement again. 

 

Though, Dean knew, at some point they had to talk about it. 

 

"I'd like to get things from my apartement.", Sam murmured softly, his head ducked as if he was waiting htat he'd get a slap over the back of his head or something.   
Dean stopped chewing and frowned. He hurried up to get the bite down after his initial shock was gone. 

 

"Sammy-"  
"Wait. - I know you don't want to go there. - And that's fine. But I need to ... It's were my life was and even when I'm not living it anymore, I'd like to look through my belongings and take some things with me." He knew what he was doing of course. Sam wanted to learn more about what his former self had been knowing about the demons and Orthos and all the other things. 

 

"SO I thought ... I could go there on my own? I mean ... I'd need to lend a car of Bobby, but I think I'll make it. And I'd be back in a day or two tops." Sam started to babble, wanting to get everything out at once, so he wouldn't forget about anything. "I'd come back, Dean. Promise. I'll do. I ... There are still some things I can't remember, I think. There're ... Maybe there's something that's going to help us. Maybe I knew more about what was going on and ... and maybe ... maybe there's something about those seals and how to stop them and-"

 

Dean opened his mouth to say something, and closed it again, stopping himself from making an ugly remark. 

 

Because Dean Winchester used to be a dork, when it was about things like that.   
He swalowed hard and thickly as his throat went dry suddenly. "Sammy ..."  
"I know why you don't want to go there and it's fine. But My past's ... it's kinda blurry, but nothing specific. I need more, Dean." Sam had both of his eyebrow's risen and looked over at his mate with huge inocent eyes, searching his face for signs of understanding. 

 

The alpha clared his throat and drew in a deep breath, then he held it and grazed with his teeth over his lower lip.   
This was important to Sam. So it had to be important to him. He knew that. He felt that it should be that way. But going back to Lawrence? To where his family's future had been doomed? Going where he'd be so close to the place where his life had changed so drastically? 

 

He wasn'T sure if he could do that.   
Dean didn't know if he could go there and leave again without – at least – stopping by their house (which had been sold and rebuild, occupied by another family) without having an emotional breakdown.   
Because he was Dean freaking Winchester, and no Winchester ever had emotional breakdowns ever. And if they saw one coming, they'd outrun it as fast as they could.   
But this was important to Sam.   
And maybe his omega was right, and they'd find something that'd be important for their case. Letting alone that they may find something that was important to Sam too.   
Dean imagined how he'd feel in his mate's place and how bad he'd want to go back where he had come from, so to figure out who he truly was. 

 

Neither of them was the man who they had been two years ago. Most of all Sam. His omega deserved to know. Deserved to do research on himself and his past life.   
He deserved it more – probably more than anyone else did – because he was a freaking hero. He'd saved dozens of lives ... 

 

"Yeah, okay." Dean blew out the breath he had been holding. His scent was bitter with grief and something else, Sam couldn't put his finger on yet.   
The omega's face lit up. His lips twitched, and eventually they curled up into a bright smile. "Really? - You'll let me go? I -" Sam was about to jump out of bed, breakfast forgotten.   
But Dean's hand on his shoulder stopped him and pushed him back down. "WE will go there. - There's no way I'll let you drive alone. WE will go to Lawrence and have a look at your apartement." He paused, thinking. "As soon as we know where it is."

 

First Sam stared at him in disbelieve. Then his lips parted slightly. "You're comin' with?"  
"Of course I'm comin' with you." Dean offered a tiny smile and stole a glance at the half-empty plate between them. Then he looked up again, catching Sam's gaze. He couldn't stand those gleaming gems of hazel and green and blue for too long though. The omega was looking so grateful and happy, it nearly hurt. 

 

"I know where it is. - I've found an address.", he declared proudly. "I'll get the laptop and show you." Again he wanted to scramble out of bed, but Dean still held him by the shoulder and once again pushed him back.   
"First: We're having breakfast." Dean cocked both eyebrows to underline his words. "THEN you are going to show me where your apartement is. AND THEN we'll plan a route. And when THAT's done, we'll do what we always do."

 

Sam's face started to fall, his smile fading away.  
"And TOMORROW we'll get up real early to go to lawrence." Dean's smile widened a bit more now. Though his body remained tense and his face kind of frozen. "We'll pack our stuff tonight."  
He watched Sam's face lite up again.   
Those dimples. Those damn freaking dimples. Dimples everywhere. There wasn't a lot else but dimples in that face right now though. Except for those shining eyes. Soft sweet lips culring up. This was priceless and definitely worth going back to lawrence. This – right before him – was worth dying for.   
"Okay." Sam seemed all nervous and loaded with energy all of a sudden. He practically bounced on the mattress. 

 

The alpha chuckled and shook his head, forking up another piece of pancake. "Eat. And stop bouncing on that damn mattress. - You're gonna mess our bed up."  
Sam stole a peck from Dean's cheek.  
Dean wiped his cheek off and made a sound. "Dude. - Stop it. And EAT. You're still lookin' like a damn skelleton under all that clothes."  
"Yes sir." He slid up right beside Dean until their shoulders touched. 

 

Dean made a low noise in the back of his throat.   
"You like me callin' you sir?" Sam forked up a piece too and shoved it into his mouth.   
"Don't tempt me, baby." The alpha gave him a mischivious smirk.   
Sam hummed in response.   
They ate in silence then. 

 

When they were done, Sam slid right under the covers and devoured Dean, drawing an incredibly mindblowing orgasm from deep within the alpha's soul, leaving him blacked out for a couple of seconds. 

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Sam gave his mate the address, which he thought had to be his appartement. At least that was what he thought it was. Both men were surprised to learn, that it wasn't an appartement. The address would lead them to a storage complex on the outskirts of Lawrence, as Google Maps showed them. 

 

The omega leaned back in the chair, his forehead creased in a deep frown.  
"A storage?", he murmured to himself. "I ... I remember it being an appartement. I've a desk in there. A chair. There're pictures on the walls and ... and there are no windows, but ... There's a coffee maker and ... and a computer and I can remember myself researching a case on it. There's a fridge and there are sandwiches in it." He gazed up at his mate helplessly. "Why'd I remember those things if they aren't real?"

 

Dean stared at the screen, pursing his lips. "Doesn't matter. - We'll go there and have a look at your storage. Maybe we'll find something about where you've had your home." He tried to sound reassuring, but failed. He himself wasn't sure what this meant. But maybe they'd find something there. A lead. Anything. Something that'd lead them to Sam's appartement of which he had been talking.

 

"You remember yourself taking a shower there?" An Idea bloomed in the back of his mind.   
Sam thought for a moment and then shook his head. "That's weird." He thought again. "I don't remember a kitchen either. - Only the fridge ... and the coffee maker."

 

"That's what I thought.", the alpha grumbled bitterly and bit his lip. Then he shook his head with a sigh.   
"You think I – Maybe it was only imagination though." Of course Sam had to start to doubt himself.   
"No." And of course the younger Winchester needed Sam to have more selfconfidence. "You remember that place, so it's gotta be important to you."

 

Sam sniffed. He had imagined that a bit different. He had thought that all his memories would come back clear as day. But they hadn't. There were holes and pieces which didn't fit. He remembered dreams and visions and all that, but most of all he remembered cases. Some things even seemed blurry to him and not quite clear.   
Sure, after Missouri had brought back his memory, it had seemed a lot. But now, that everything had settled down, he started to realize, that at the second glance that he didn't remember everything though. Even when it had felt that way at first.

 

Pictures and conversations with strangers. That girl from some bar taking him home.   
It was weird to feel so missplaced.   
Well, not here anyway, but in his mind and body.   
What he had felt back in the day and who he had been didn't fit to the man he was now.   
"Don't you worry, baby." He laid his hand on Sam's thigh and rubbed up and down a couple of times. "We'll figure it all out."

 

Sam gave him an hesitant nod and the left corner of his lips turned upwards. He wasn't a bit uncertain about that though.   
What if they'd waste good time for that little trip down to Lawrence without coming away with something useful? And he was not talking about his own background story. He was thinking about the case. 

 

Because that was what he hoped that'd get Dean's mood up a bit. That the alpha wouldn't have the feeling that he was driving Sam down there because he had to. Because Sam was his mate. That was the last thing he wanted. 

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

The day passed agonizing slow.   
For the both of them.   
In the afternoon they went to Bobby's and told the rest about planning on going to Lawrence, checking out Sam's storage container – IF it was a container. 

 

John stood in the background listening, while Sam could feel the older Winchester's gaze drill into his bed with a punishing pace. That was by far not how Sam had imagined that.   
Bobby had found out a hand full of things about the riders. Other things than the common lore though. Those riders didn't only bring death, pestilence, war and famine. And there weren't only four of them.   
There were thirteen.   
Besides Death, War, Pestilence and Famine, there were the Seven deadly sins. Which was actually rediculous, because how could those douchebags possibly have the same state as the riders?   
Well, obviously, in the catholic and most of the other religions, they may weren't as powerful as the four riders of the apocalypse, but they sure as hell were related to them. What threw a completely different light on the whole story. 

 

And there was definitely a lot to catch up with too.   
SO Bobby had managed to figure out where to get a rare example of "Diluculat" meaning as much as "the day is dawning". As per Bobby it was a novell. A freaking novell telling tales about some freaking old lore, which they may could use to stop this. 

 

A damn novell.   
That was rediculous.   
Anyway. 

 

Ellen and Jim'd go borrow the "Diluculat" from some generous Millionair ... who was living in the united kingdom. What meant that they'd have to catch a flight and cross the sea for an about three-hundred years old book. Which – by the way – was in a building, guarded better than Fort Knox itself back in the day. At least that was what an article said about that guy.

 

As it seemed, there were hundreds of rare specimens stored there ...   
Until their return, there wouldn't be a lot to figure out anyway. First they'd have to read through the novell as soon as Ellen and Jim'd be back.   
"Forty-Eight hours tops.", Ellen assured the grizzled hunter.   
"You've a plan how to get in there?" Dean leaned forward. 

 

"We've one." Jim winked at him and Ellen grinned cockily. "Father Murphey and Sister Mary Bridget are going to have a look at that novell. - The guy's chauffeur's gonna wait for us at the airport to pick us up."

 

Stunned, Dean Winchester eyed the both of them. "How're you gonna get the book out of there anyway? And on the damn plain? The guy's gonna freak out if it's missing."  
"Depends on if he'll notice.", Ellen answered. 

 

The alpha huffed out a breath and shook his head. That couldn't work. "What if he does though? There's no way either of us is gonna get you out of there then."  
The female hunter grinned. "We're in that line of work since you were wetting your diapers, son. - Trust me on this. We'll be back on Saturday. With the book."

 

Sam listened carefully, not to miss something, as he tried to use their topic to remember. Not that he did have the feeling that there was something that'd trigger them anyway. At least not right now. Actually he was more worried, that neither Ellen nor Jim'd get out of there without being arrested.   
That whole plan sounded a bit fragile to him. With too many ifs and whens. 

 

"There's no other way to read it? I mean ... Aren't there digital copies?" He thought to remember that he had read something about people scanning high priced books and then selling those pictures. So everyone could have a look into them. Still, those copies were highly expensive.   
Something that Sam didn't quite understand though. Then again ... he didn't have to understand certain things anyway, did he?.   
Bobby's ears perked up. "Do they?"  
Sam nodded with a faint smile. "I think I've read something about that ..." The omega cleared his throat. "I can have a look into it. And if I find something, Ellen and Jim wouldn't have to fly and ... risk to get arrested."  
They all seemed to ponder that though.   
"Good idea, kiddo." Bobby rubbed over his face.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

To Sam's defeat, he didn't find anything on the web which would've led him to a copy of the novell.   
So Jim and Ellen took off towards the airport around six in the afternoon after having a greasy, but awesome dinner at the grizzled hunter's house.   
Until Sam and Dean left, it was eight. Not that late for either of them, but both were exhausted. And Sam was definitely tired.   
Something Dean couldn't possibly accept like that, since he still had plans for tonight. The Winchester didn't have time to be tired. And Sam wasn't supposed to be tired too right now.

 

They were barely inside their house, when the alpha talked up. "You wanna grab the first shower?", Dean asked innocently while he toed off his boots and got out of his jacket.   
Surprised, that his mate didn't seem to want to join him, Sam rose both eyebrows as he turned around to face him. The omega looked him up and down and tilted his head to the side, wordlessly questioning if he didn't want to join him.

 

Dean smiled and walked up to him. He then laid his hands on Sam's hips and pulled him in close, stealing a lingering kiss from those godforsaken soft lips.   
"Have your shower, baby boy." He smiled against his mate's lips and gave him another peck, bevore he pulled back.   
"'kay." Sam still seemed curious, but did as Dean told him.   
When he was done in the shower, and dressed in his night-gown he found himself even more surprised, that the bed was empty. Actually he had assumed, that Dean'd be there, waiting for him. 

 

But the alpha wasn't.   
Instead of something alive and breathing, there was a box on the bed on top of the covers. Plain brown, with a white sheet of paper on top.   
From where Sam stood, he could see the handwritten letters.   
Carefully, as if there could possibly jump something out of the box, he narrowed ever so tentatively. The omega's frown deepened, as closer he came to the box and when he eventually stood before it, his eyebrows rose up in surprise. 

 

There was a flash of joy crossing his features, and his eyes lit up, as he read the last word at the bottom of the paper. He took the small note into his hands and read. First, confusion stroke his mind like a lightning, but as he kept on reading, his features relaxed visibly. 

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Dean stood in the kitchen by the sink, his ears strained so that he wouldn't miss Sam turning off the shower. Currently he busied himself with taking care of the coffee maker. Which – in fact – he had never cared about that intently. 

 

Actually he wondered how that thing was still working, since this was the first time – since he had bought it two years ago – that he was cleaning it. And it definitely looked pretty ugly from the inside.   
Like a coffee-maker after two years without cleaning would look like.   
Rather disgusted, he eyed it's parts, which he had put into the sink after dismantling it and wondered intently if he'd be able to put it together again when he was done.   
Then again ... maybe it'd be time for a new one anyway, since it was making those incredibly aweful gurgling noises lately. 

 

The water in the sink was turning brown and black slowly, as he rubbed on the parts, trying to clean them up properly.   
The alpha froze at the very moment, when he heard the shower being turned off.   
Was it really the right call to make?, he thought to himself. Debating it now wouldn't help anyway though. Sam'd be out of the shower and in the bedroom within minutes. Then again ... there'd be enough time to get there and pack the box away again.   
He let go of the soapy sponge and the part which held the coffee of the machine and cleaned his hands on a rag.   
Dean heard the bathroom-door being opened.   
Now it was definitely too late to even think about putting the box away anymore.   
What if Sam had just looked at the dress because ... because it was there? What if he wouldn't like it though and what if he never desired to wear such a thing? What if he looked at it, because it was just ... disgusting? People were always looking at things which they didn't like. Mostly they were staring at those things more than at the ones they liked to own?  
Right?

 

Dammit.  
Anywho. Now it was too late about thinking like that and he sure would know in a very short amount of time if Sam'd like it or not. Or if he'd feel messed with. 

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Sam eyed the box curiously and wondered.   
Dean asked him in that letter if he'd wear it for him. And if he'd come into the living-room and join him on the couch with whatever was in that box.   
His alpha had also written, that he thought it'd match Sam's eyes and that he'd love to see him in – whatever it was – that nice thing.   
"Duh." He blew out a breath and shook his head. Nervousness was creeping into his very nerves as he bowed down and reached for the cover to open it.   
When it was open, and Sam's gaze fell onto what was inside of it, the cover fell from his hands and it hit the floor with a soft thud. A sharp intake of air followed and the omega's eyes instantly started to soften. Then there was a flash of insecurity and right after that shame. 

 

"No ... oh no.", he breathed, crushing Dean's note violently, which he still held in his right hand.   
He actually had hoped that his mate wouldn't have seen it. He had bet on it that he didn't.   
This was awkward. So awkward and wrong.   
Sam's throat went dry, so did his mouth, as his gaze lingered on the hazel-brown piece of fabric inside the box. Only hesitantly he tore his gaze away from it and stared back at the crushed note in his fist with a deep frown on his forehead.   
It was Dean's. Dean had seen him with it and he had seen him back at Bobby's with Karen's dresses. He knew. And though ... 

 

Sam blew out the breath he was holding and shook his head.   
The alpha wouldn't have bought it for him if he wasn't okay with Sam wearing dresses, right? He wouldn't want to surprise him with it. And he sure didn't think that he was disgusting because he liked women's clothes. 

 

At least it looked like it. 

 

Dean wouldn't ask him to wear it, if he would think that Sam was sick or crazy or whatever, right?   
But even if he didn't mean that, his alpha would agree with it either ...   
They hadn't talked about that particular topic after all.   
Torn in between feeling funny about getting dressed like a girl and showing himself to Dean and feeling pure joy about his mate buying such a beautiful thing for him and wanted him to wear it, Sam stared back at the cause of his strife. 

 

He'd see – and smell – if Dean was approving or not. So what did he have to loose? Causing his alpha grief, because he wouldn't wear it, in case he truly wanted him to see him in that dress?   
Or – on the other hand – seeing and scenting disgust from the person he wanted to spend his life with?  
Either way he could be screwed. Either way he could make Dean happy though.   
Sam chewed on his lower lip, as he reached for the cloth and ran his fingertips over the soft lace. One thing he knew for certain: He wanted it. He wanted to feel how it'd feel on his skin. 

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Dean Winchester was scared shitless. 

 

To say the least.   
He'd been debating with himself for the past ten minutes if he should go in there, instead of sitting and waiting on the couch, and rip that damn thing apart. He wanted to go in there and tell his omega to forget about that whole thing and that they should act as if it had never happened.   
Dean's hands were shaking with nervousness, his palms were sweating. 

 

Sam was taking too long in there.   
Again, he glanced at the watch and swallowed around the lump in his throat. Maybe his words in the note sounded as if Sam HAD TO wear it for him. Maybe Sam thought, that he wouldn't put it on, that Dean'd be pissed?   
The alpha thought about every single phrase in the note and turned it around in his head a dozen times, checking it over and over again, if he had been indirectly threatening. 

 

Sam should be done by now.   
How long could it possibly take to get dressed?   
Well, maybe Sam didn't like it and was thinking about ways of getting out of this situation just like Dean did right now.   
Dean closed his eyes for a brief moment and took a calming inhale.   
It did nothing though for his nerves though.   
He kept on waiting anyhow. The alpha sat anxiously on the couch, tapping with his foot on the floor.

 

Another ten minutes passed and the clock read that it was shy before nine, when he finally had enough. This way or another he'd go in there. He'd ... hell, Dean Winchester didn't know what he'd do.   
He only knew that he had to do something. Now. 

.... to be continued


	29. Attack

THE ROAD SO FAR:

Sam was taking too long in there. Again, he glanced at the watch and swallowed around the lump in his throat. Maybe his words in the note sounded as if Sam HAD TO wear it for him. Maybe Sam thought that if he didn’t put it on, that Dean would be pissed? The alpha thought about every single phrase in the note and turned it around in his head a dozen times, checking it over and over again, wondering if he had been indirectly threatening.

 

Sam should be done by now. How long could it possibly take to get dressed? Well, maybe Sam didn't like it and was thinking about ways of getting out of this situation just like Dean was right now. Dean closed his eyes for a brief moment and took a calming inhale. It did nothing though for his nerves though. He kept on waiting anyhow. The alpha sat anxiously on the couch, tapping with his foot on the floor.

 

Another ten minutes passed and the clock read that it was shy before nine, when he finally had enough. This way or another he'd go in there. He'd ... hell, Dean Winchester didn't know what he'd do. He only knew that he had to do something. Now.

Fields Of Jasmine  
Chapter 29 ~ Attack

Sam's fingertips ghosted over the soft fabric ever so lovingly.  
He wore a soft smile as he felt his own touch, above his heart, through the soft fabric of cream colored satin and hazel-brown lace.

It felt good, so good. The omega spun around once more, watching the skirt fly and the folds settle down again. It didn’t feel as though he was doing something wrong. He knew that deep down it couldn't be wrong to feel good, but other people might not understand if he felt comfortable in a dress, when he looked more like a guy than a girl. Most of all, he didn't know how Bobby – and rather more – John Winchester would feel about him if he'd run around in a dress. John Winchester who was a hard man. A man with a rough stubbles and pepper-salt hair. His mate's father.

These were all things he needed to think about before letting himself feel truly comfortable with that piece of fabric. It would mean so much more if Dean's family and friends wouldn't accept him this way. If they wouldn’t, would Dean? COULD Dean accept that these were things he liked?

Sam couldn't remember that part of him from his life before the surgery. It was as if those feelings and longings had not existed back then. That might be because he had taken suppressants. Well, Sam didn't know if the pills he took truly were suppressants, but he could remember taking tiny pink or blue pills every other night.

Then again ... he also knew that other people wouldn't understand. Maybe even Dean didn't understand. He had seen Dean's reaction when he once had tried to discuss suppressants with him, only to see how his mate reacted to that topic. While, his alpha hadn't seemed too fond of those pills either, Dean hadn't said that he didn't want Sam to take them either. He left it pretty much Sam's choice whether he'd take suppressants or not.

A soft sigh fell from his lips as he gazed at the bedroom door, debating once more with himself if he should go out there in the dress or if he should get dressed in his pyjamas. What would Dean expect him to do? Another sigh. And another five minutes passed.

 

Meanwhile, he was two steps closer to the door and was taking a third one, biting his lower lip.  
His hands were shaking and his stomach churning at the thought of what he'd find on the other side.  
Maybe he was thinking about this too much. Maybe it would be so much easier if he stopped analyzing the rights and wrongs of him wearing the dress or Dean’s reaction and just left the bedroom.

Because this was him, right? Yeah, he liked his jeans and shirts and shit. But he also liked the feminine things. He liked the idea of wearing dresses or maybe even skirts. He hadn't even thought about underwear so far. But was it really that wrong? Sam sighed again and shook his head, gathering all the courage he could and finally reached for the door handle.

But he didn't have time to lay a single finger on it, when the door burst open. Sam was greeted by a snarling and hyperventilating young Winchester who appeared in the doorway and immediately stopped dead in his tracks. His eyes were blown wide and his breath caught in his chest as he stared at his mate.

Sam flinched and pulled his hand back tight against his chest. He practically shrunk under the older man's stare. The need to hide himself, hide what he was wearing and how he looked like, struggled to overtake every thought right then.

His cheeks took on a dark shade of red as he kept on staring at Dean, who – in return – stared back at Sam, eyeing him from the top of his chestnut hair to his toes and back up. No matter how awkward this might have been, Sam needed to be seen exactly as he was. He needed Dean to know that this was a part of him, even when he had denied it for so long.

Sam could remember that he'd taken those pills back in the day when he had still been this shadow. He’d done so to hide himself from people like Dean, to hide what he was and suppress what he longed for. He hadn't wanted others to know how he ticked. And that, sure as hell, was as unhealthy as all the rest.

A soft "Sammy" fell from the ex-hunter's lips. Sam bat his lashes and gazed up through long bangs of dark hair, asking him without words if this was alright. The tension in Dean's shoulders faded and his lips twitched. The alpha's eyes lit up, as if a spark of light inflamed those green dark eyes, morphing into a bright beam.

"You're ..." The ex-hunter took a step into the room and closer to Sam, who just stood there. That flush on his cheeks. Beautiful eyes cast towards the floor. Ashamed of how he was looking, or what he was presenting, Dean didn't know. "You look amazing."

And he did.

It didn’t matter that he looked more like a guy than a girl. Nor did it matter that there was nothing filling out the space where a woman's breasts should fill out the upper quarter of the dress. Dean doubted that even if there were hairs on the omega's legs, that he could look bad in it.

There were plenty of men out there wearing woman's clothes without Sam's very special features. This wasn’t a bad thing. It simply wasn't. But Dean couldn't understand why the hell Sam should feel ashamed about something that was only natural. It wasn't a kink. Or a fetish.

This was Sam.

And no matter what he wore or in which kind of clothes he felt more comfortable, this was him and no one could change a person for what he or she was.

That's what made this world as colorful as it was.

That's why no one who felt like wearing dresses – no matter if guy or girl, if thin or plump – should feel bad about what he or she liked. It was what it was. Nature.

There was nothing to be ashamed of. No matter how someone looked. Sure, Dean had watched out for that kind of thing in his past. Of course he'd been drawn to the pretty chicks at high-school or dinners or bars. He had hit on girls with big boobs and deep necklines, with short skirts and firm legs. Hell, he'd even made jokes about those who didn't fit into the kind of supermodel-category. But that had been back then and he hadn't always been the man he was now. Because now he was damn well older and more grown up (most of the time anyway) and he thought different from how he had been thinking back at high school.

Actually?

He could smack his younger self for being such an ass back in the day. For even daring to think as he had thought.

Dean released his breath slowly, as he walked up to his omega with a soft smile. When he stood before him, he laid one hand on Sam's waist and the other one on his cheek and tilted his head up, so that he was looking him in the eyes.

"You look amazing, Sammy.", he whispered, his hand slipping down to Sam's neck.  
"Dean ..." Sam looked aside, not able to look him in the eyes. It wasn't like he didn't believe him. Dean was telling the truth, because he'd know if it wasn't that way. However, Sam was sure there should be shame and embarrassment. Feelings that he thought Dean was sure to have about his mate now.

"Don't." Dean's hand slid over his shoulder and crossed the lacy short sleeve to where it ended. "Don't do that." His voice was soft and calming. "Don't think that it's wrong." Sam looked up again, locking gazes with his boyfriend. The former shadow of the hunter-hood looked so young and shy.

The alpha pulled Sam in, their pelvis touching each other’s. "There's no reason to be, Sam."  
He took in his face, those freckles and ever so green circles. "You're someone else now. You ain't that guy from two years ago. The one who hid away from everyone, afraid to be discovered as an omega. If you want to be, you can be both." Dean meant what he said.

Sam didn't have to put on a show or whatever he thought he might have to do to deserve his place in society. "No matter what. I'll be right here, okay? If you want to wear a cowboy hat and hot pants I'm totally in for that." There was this cocky grin and mischievous glint in his eyes again.

Sam blushed harder.

"You are who you are. There's no reason for putting on a show for me or whoever else you think you could be disappointing." He paused, letting his words sink in. "Those people out there? I get why you think you have to look like a regular guy. But you aren't a regular guy. You may look mostly male, but that doesn't mean anything. You get me?"

Sam gave him a jerky nod, as he wasn't quite sure what to say to that.  
"Good. And now ... let me have a look at you." Dean's grin widened and he made a step back, though, leaving his hands on Sam. He looked down on him, taking in his bare feet and big toes curling inwards against the wooden floor.

"I got the right size?" Yes, this was enough of a chick flick already. SO they'd better stop before either of them started crying. Sam gave him another nod, returning a tiny smile.

Dean tugged a thick strand of hair behind Sam's ear, revealing his scar. "You like it?"  
Sam's smile widened a bit more as he gave him another shy nod. "I love it.", Sam's voice was a bit hoarse.

"Fine. That's real good." He couldn't stop to grin like a dumb idiot. His heart was making back-flips right now, dancing a tango of glee at Sam's response. "You ... you want to watch some TV?"  
Sam shook his head and gazed towards the bed. He never asked for what he needed – emotionally or physically – with words. The omega never did.

What Dean supposed was because of what he'd been though before they found him in the woods. Sharing a year of your life with a demo-ridden vamp sure wasn't fun. Even when Sam didn't talk about his time with Savanger a lot, he still could imagine what it had been like.

Who'd want to go into such a dark place again? Freely? No healthy soul would. Even when psychologists said that things like that had to get digested and worked out, sometimes it was better to store them away, or lock them in some forgotten corner of the mind. Dean Winchester knew what he was talking about. Of course he’d been through a lot of shitty situations himself, but there wasn't any he could possibly compare to what Sam had endured.

"Bed?", Dean asked eventually. And Sam nodded again.

Dean's hand slid down the rest of the way and intertwined his fingers with Sam's. He tugged the younger man with him and let him sit down at the edge of the bed, planting a gentle kiss on his forehead. "I'm gonna turn the lights off, baby.", he whispered against the omega’s smooth skin.  
When the alpha had done that and was back, Sam was struggling with the zipper at the back of the dress. He only turned around when Dean came back in.  
"Don't." The older man's voice was a bit rough and it had a hint of an order in it. "Is it comfy?", this time it was spoken softer.

Sam gave him a nod.

"Leave it on.", Dean tried to reassure him. "I like seeing you in it. It's nice."  
Sam seemed to ponder that and let go of the zipper after another moment of thinking.  
Sam crawled under the covers, so did Dean. The omega nuzzled into the ex-hunter's chest and breathed a heavy sigh. He pulled his hands in between himself and Dean then wiggled around until he was comfortable.

The ex-hunter did the same as he slung his arms around Sam, one of his hands coming to a rest on the outer side of Sam's thigh, since he had one of his legs thrown over Dean's.  
"You think it's okay?", Sam asked after quite some time.

Dean, who was already half asleep frowned. "What'd you mean?" There was a beat of absolute silence. "The dress ... and ... me." He needed to know, to hear it again. Dean's frown faded and he smiled. "Of course I do. Like I said. That's you and I don't want you to be any different, baby boy." Dean's fingers slid under the skirt, drawing circles into the omega's smooth skin tenderly. "You look real good in that thing." A grin grew and took in his whole face. "Should've bought you a red one."  
Sam nudged him in the chest with his finger and chuckled.

"Ouch. What the hell? That ain't funny. I mean it." With that he earned himself a more intensive poke. "Not joking, Sammy." Dean's voice morphed into a more serious one. "I mean it.", he added. "You'd look sweet in a red one." "I hate red.", he murmured into Dean's shirt. The omega's upper arm snug around his mate's middle. "And pink. I don't like pink." Dean wasn't sure what that hint was for and it took him a couple of moments to ponder what Sam had said. Then eventually – finally – the bulb above his head went on and his lips formed a perfect "o".

"Even when it's lace, or satin?" Dean could literally feel Sam frown into his chest. He could hear the wheels in his mind jump into geek-mode. "I don't like pink. And red. No matter what fabric." He told his mate calmly. "I don't like royal blue either. Or ... any other of those intensive colors. And I ... I don't like to wear all that stuff women wear. ... It's just ... this." Sam was talking about the dress, that was clear.

Dean hummed low and nodded into the mop of hair under his chin. "I get it, Sammy. Only things which appeal to you. That's perfectly fine with me."  
"Yeah?", Sam was a bit surprised that the alpha didn't put him into a box beforehand. He was even positively surprised, that Dean understood.

"Sure thing. Whatever you want, I want it too. And if you don't want something, I won't want it either. Don't you get it?" Dean pulled back, just enough to gaze down at his mate's sparkling eyes.  
Sam tilted his head to the side. "We're in this, no matter what. I don't care about anyone else, or how others think that things are supposed to be." Dean traced with his knuckles over Sam's cheekbone with a fond smile. "This is us, and I don't think that either of us is like anyone else out there. We can't apply to them. No hunter or ex-hunter can. That's how it is."

The alpha found himself searching Sam's lips and brushing them against his. It only took Sam a moment, before he started to kiss back and moan into the kiss as soon as Dean started to suckle on his tongue and biting his lip.

Instinctively, Sam pushed his pelvis against Dean's, feeling hardness beneath layers of fabric. The alpha's grip on his thigh tightened as he pushed up against him, his hand slipping further under the dress, up to the curve under Sam's butt.

"We should sleep.", Dean murmured against kiss-swollen lips. Little Dean Winchester didn't agree – obviously – though. "Mhm." Sam knew that. But he actually felt like making out and groping at each other. He didn't care if he'd have to get up early the next day. Well, at least not until the next day anyway. They kept on kissing and touching and slowly but surely the whole making out became more heated, and when Dean's hand slipped past the waistband of Sam's briefs, there was no holding back anymore. Dean's fingers wrapped around Sam's length tightly and the omega moaned in return, hiking his leg up higher as the both of them were still laying on their sides.

Though, that wasn't quite what Sam wanted. Not at all. It was nice to have friction there, but he'd like it even more when Dean showed some more attention towards what was hidden “behind”. Not that Sam didn't enjoy it, but the thing was, that his member wasn't the main attraction here.  
That was what Dean didn't know, since Sam wasn't too keen to talk about things like that to his mate. He might as well show him that it'd feel a lot better to him when he touched him somewhere else.

Sam, who had his hand on Dean's still denim-clad manhood, slipped his hand under the skirt of his dress and took a hold of Dean's hand. A bit surprised, but open for whatever Sam wanted to do with him, he followed the omega's word-less prompt and let go. He followed Sam's hand, which tugged him further down, to that very wet, slick fold. Sam whimpered at the first touch of his mate's seasoned finger slipping in between his wet folds, searching out the one tender spot at the very top. A high pitched gasp fell from Sam's lips, when Dean stroke over it once more.

The alpha growled possessively into Sam's ear, as he moved his middle-finger further down until he nudged at his opening. Another aroused sound got pushed from the omega's chest, when his finger entered him to the second knuckle.

Dean's hot breaths ghosted down Sam's exposed skin, and Sam's desperate breathy moans, got muffled by the ex-hunter's shirt. Eventually, Sam's hand found its way back into Dean's boxers and as it was, this seemed to set the alpha off.

Suddenly, Sam found himself rolled onto his back, Dean hovering over him with his pupils blown wide. The alpha nudged his legs apart to have more space between them and crushed his lips into Sam's mercilessly. His hands found Sam's wrists and he urged them upwards above the omega's head, bringing him into a more submissive position.

That didn't mean anything at all. Hell, Dean didn't even think about (not entirely at least) what he was doing. This was instinct. This was his omega. It wasn't like he would try to knot Sam, or even think about penetrating him.

No way. No way that he'd do that right now.

Instead of feeling aroused by Dean's hard manhood press into his from above, Sam squeezed out a panicked gasp. He wiggled his hands and wrists and tugged. His knees went up in an attempt to get Dean off of him.

"No.", he breathed. He knew this had nothing to do with Orthos or what had happened to him. He knew Dean wouldn't hurt him or make him do something he didn't want to, but all of a sudden a part of him found itself back at Savanger's. He found himself tied to the bed and Orthos above him.

He couldn't stop the panic attack from happening, nor avoid sounding like a frightened...something.

His chest grew tight and his throat started to close up on him, making it impossible to breathe. Dean let go of Sam's hands and rolled off of him the very moment he noticed the omega's distress.

It took him a moment to understand what was happening, but when he did, it hit him full-force.

"Sammy?", he croaked out worriedly, as he watched the omega scoot back against the headboard and pull his legs up towards his chest, hugging them tightly. Sam sucked in hacked off breaths, wheezing with the effort of getting enough oxygen into his lungs.  
"Sam. It's ... It's okay. We ..." Dean sucked in a deep breath. His own arousal fading away rapidly as his chest filled with guilt. "I'm sorry ... I didn't think ..."

"I'm sorry." Sam's eyes moved frantically, as if he was searching the room for somewhere to escape or hide. He didn't even notice his mate beside him, didn't knowledge his words. "So sorry. I ... I'm sorry, Dean. I didn't ... Oh god, no. Don't."

"It's okay." Dean tugged himself back into his jeans and crawled up beside Sam, where he leaned against the headboard and pulled him against his side. "It's okay. Don't worry." He wrapped an arm around his shoulder and kissed his temple. "Too fast too far, huh?" Dean swallowed, and reached with his other hand for Sam's face, stroking it tenderly. "It's okay. You're safe, Sunshine. You're with me."

Sam nodded into the alpha's shoulder, his eyes squeezed shut tightly while his breathing started to calm down slowly. "I didn't want to ... I ... I'm sorry. I really am."

"Nothin' to be sorry for, babe." He was only glad that Sam didnt pull away from him. That it was quite the opposite though he was the reason that Sam was freaking out. The alpha reached for the comforter and pulled it up over Sam's legs and lap. "It was like ... back then." He still struggled to get his breathing under control. "I ... want it. I want this. With you. I ... I'm sorry." "It's perfectly fine. Don't you worry about this." Dean placed another gentle kiss to his omega's temple and card his fingers through sweat-damp hair. "I shouldn't have pinned you down like that. I didn't think." Something he could kick himself for.

Sam drew in a shuddering breath as he blinked his eyes open. Thinking about this closer, Dean realized, that he'd never had Sam beneath him like that. Not in bed and certainly not holding his hands or wrists, even when it hadn't been violent. It had always been the both of them on the couch, Sam on top of him, or beside him. And when Dean had been atop of his mate it was never with his hands somewhere close to Sam's. The omega's hands had always been free to roam and he certainly hadn't ground down into him that eagerly.

Sam gave him a short nod and swallowed. Again.

"I'll go grab a shower, 'kay? And then we'll cuddle up and make out some more." He winked at Sam who nudged him into his ribs in response. "Or we just sleep." The omega made a small noise. "You don't stink. You can stay. Shower tomorrow."

And as simple as that, Dean obliged. Because after all it was Sam in charge of him and not the other way around. The being in his arms may was an omega and omegas may be more submissive or – how others would call it – meant to follow their mates even if they didn't approve of certain things, but they sure as hell had the upper hand in a relationship.

They just didn't wear it on the outside.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Sam had spent the night in the dress.  
Dean had slept the night in his tee and jeans.  
When the clock struck six, the both of them shared lazy kisses and rolled out of bed. While Dean took his shower, Sam got dressed into something more convenient and packed a duffel for himself and one for Dean.  
Once done, he left them on the bed and moved into the kitchen, where he started on preparing breakfast.

He glanced down at his bandaged arm and frowned, after getting the bottle of pills from the counter. Actually it didn't hurt that bad anymore, and Dean had told him that those stitches could come out today. SO he might not need the pills anymore as well.

Sam put them into the closed cabinet and then thought for a moment.

Actually the coffee maker had been torn apart and its pieces were lying in the sink in a pool of dark-brown water. The omega threw a glance over his shoulder towards the bathroom and shook his head absently.

Obviously – if they wanted coffee before they'd hit the road – he needed to put the coffee machine back together.

It had looked worse than it actually was.  
The thing was put together in less than ten minutes and was making it's gurgling noises when the first drops of black gold hit the bottom the pot. The machine itself even sounded a bit less at its limits.

The eggs were in the pan, when Dean emerged from their bedroom fully dressed and with a towel over his head. He hummed at the soft smell of coffee and eggs and pursed his lips gleefully when his gaze landed on Sam's back.

A wave of disappointment washed over the alpha, when he saw him wearing jeans and a shirt. It wasn't like it wasn't okay, or that Sam didn't look good in those clothes either. It was just that ... that Sam should feel free to wear the dress, or whatever he preferred.

Though, Dean knew society and he also knew that some people wouldn't approve seeing someone – obviously male – wearing dresses or skirts, or women clothes in general, in public.  
Because it meant that Sam wouldn't dare to wear them in public either.

And he actually felt anger flare up in the depths of his gut, as he thought about his mate – his omega – not being able to do what he wanted because it wouldn't oblige whatever rules society had come up with dozens of years ago.

Hell, guys had been wearing skirts all the damn time if you think of Scotland, Egypt or the early antique. He couldn’t change current society’s view, so he might as well get over that and focus on what lay before them.

Dean walked up behind Sam and wrapped his arms around the taller man, then kissed his neck. "Hey, babe. - What're you doin'?"

"Eggs. Bacon." Sam pointed with the spatula towards the coffee maker. "And coffee."  
Dean hummed low and tightened his hold around Sam's middle before he let go to get mugs and plates from the cupboard. "Smells awesome."

Sam bumped with his hip into Dean's and nearly sent him off balance. The alpha squinted at his mate and bumped back into his side, but the taller man stood his ground and chuckled.  
"When'll we take off?"

"Seven? We should make it to Lawrence by nightfall. We can stay at the storage of yours and then we’ll start digging through your stuff in the morning." Sounded like a solid plan to Dean. He also hoped that they'd be on their way back by tomorrow night or the morning after.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

The demon gritted her teeth and snarled, as the pup once again snapped at her fingers. She rose the whip and flicked it at the rebellious beast.

"This will not work, young one.", A voice rose from the darkness behind her and a yellow-eyed man stepped out of the shadows. "You can't break it, as long as it feels its connection to the human. That is why he should have killed the kid in the first place.", his last words were snarled, yellow eyes gleaming up like gems in the darkness of the room.

"It is not my fault, father.", she hissed back at the man behind her without turning around.  
"You had one job, Sweetheart. One damn job. I've thought I gave this task to the right child of mine." He sounded a bit calmer, and though as if it was the silence before a storm.

The blonde wasn't the one to flinch back from her father like the others of his children. That was why he picked her for this job. She was a reckless one and though she used to plan whatever they had in mind.

"You did. - And I am going to fix this, father. Like I always do."

"Orthos's child will not bow before any of us. He will not surrender until the distraction is gone. Its mind is stronger than the others since he is growing up with the confidence of not being completely alone. - It can feel his human side stronger than any of the others due the connection to the birth-giver. Either you kill the human, or our plans will fail." The man made another step towards his daughter and laid his heavy hand on her small shoulder. "You better hurry up though. Otherwise we cannot hold up our pace and the plan will fall apart, Meg." The yellow eyed demon paused, his lips twitching. "John Winchester killed all of them. This one is our last chance for this generation to succeed. I will not accept any kind of failure of you again."  
She nodded, letting the whip sink. The beast was still holding her gaze as it bared its white teeth at her. It was clear as day. Either this would work, or her father would cast her down into hell.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

They were – indeed – on the road by seven. Sam rode shotgun, and to be honest, Dean felt as if he could get used to this. Back then it had always been him and his baby. And now there was Sam too, making him feel whole again after so many years.

Dean's hand found his omega's thigh only five minutes into the drive and squeezed it gently. Sam's hand joined his mate's seconds later, covering it with his. They shared a fond smile over the short distance.

They made only a single break on their way to Kansas and that was to pick up a fast lunch and coffee at a very tiny and abandoned looking diner at the side of the road. They made it in and out, without Sam having to freak out, since there was just a scary old cook and the even older weird looking waitress. No one else.

Dean felt the urge to salt and burn that place down to the ground after leaving it. Just to be sure. He swore himself that he'd never stop at such a crappy diner again.

They reached Lawrence much earlier than Dean had expected and went to the caretaker of the storage company since Dean decided that it may not was a good idea to break into Sam's container. Well, in this case it looked more like a real storage room. Two to be exact, as it turned out.  
Sam had rented two, which laid right beside one another.

The small plump guy gazed up at Sam as if he was surprised to see him.

"Mister Miller!", he called out as soon as Dean and Sam were inside the office. The small guy threw his hands in the air cheeringly and hurried around the counter, where he brushed past Dean and wrapped his short arms around Sam in a bear-hug.

"It's nice to see ya', kid. - Thought you'd never show up again." The man pulled back, his dark-brown eyes gleaming and sparkling with joy. He patted Sam's shoulder. The omega frowned as he looked down at the man curiously. He couldn't for the sake of it remember this guy, even when he had the feeling that he needed to.

The man mirrored Sam's frown and made another step back to take him in. "You look thinner.", he acknowledged. His gaze darted towards Dean, who he just now seemed to notice. The small man's gaze turned hard, as he took in the alpha from tip to toe. He then looked back at Sam, letting his gaze roam over the omega once more.

Obviously the man was putting together his own assumptions about Sam's absence and the way he looked.

"What the hell happened?"

Sam opened his mouth to talk up, but Dean was first to reply. "My boyfriend lost his memory due an accident."

The little guy seemed to look straight through the alpha's lie. "I may be a beta, and I sure as hell don't know a lot about your relationship to Sam, but I can tell you that ain't true, mister." His eyes narrowed dangerously. "He'd never take someone to his storage. – Why would he start now?"

He then turned to look back up at Sam, watching him for a couple of minutes.  
"I ... Dean's right. - I only remember bits and pieces." He brushed the hair out of his face, revealing the scar, wanting to proof that Dean's lie was true.

The smaller man's eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. "Oh." Sam smiled shyly. "I only remember that I've had ... a storage here ... or a container where I keep things. I ... It's the only thing I remember. I also have the feeling that I should be remembering you. But ... I don't. And I'm sorry."

The small guy rose his hand. "You've been callin' me Harry." He seemed to think and that he was a bit embarrassed by his own behavior. "You sure don't remember where you put your key either, huh?"

Sam gave him a nervous nod. "Maybe you could show us where -" The man – Harry – hurried back around the counter and opened a small box where he rummaged around for quite some time. When he had found what he was looking for he held up a key with an eight-ball as key-chain. "There it is." He smiled. "I bet you guys are gonna crash there for tonight, will ya?" He rose both eyebrows.  
Dean grinned at the man. "Did he often crash in the container?" Harry gazed at the alpha curiously, then he looked back at Sam. "He's your boyfriend, huh?"

Sam nodded.

On their way to the storage room, Harry was babbling along. Though it was a useful babbling, since he was telling them a whole lot about Sam and the room he was guiding them to.

"You only slept there, when you came back limping or somehow ... sore ... from one of ya' trips.", Henry continued to tell. "I still have your car too, you know? Haven't sold it as you told me, kid. Figured, I'd wait more than just a couple of months for you to come back." He winked at Sam and gave him a soft smile. Sam gazed surprised at him. Dean did too. "If you guys want to stay here for the night – or longer – I'll throw on the generator so you'll have electricity and warm water. - At least a while though. Ain't like you could heat enough water for a shower though." He chuckled. "Besides. - It only had to reach out for that kid to get his wounds cleaned and bandaged, right?"

Sam's frown deepened as they rounded a corner and gave Dean a look. The alpha looked back at his mate at least as curious.

Another couple of locked up storage doors later, Harry stopped and handed Sam the keys. "Good to see you walkin' and talkin', kid." The man adjusted his ball cap and patted Sam's bicep. "Don't shy away and forget to say good bye when you guys leave." And with that he turned around and was about to take off. "Wait!", Sam called out. "How'd I pay for this?"

Harry stopped and looked back over his shoulder. "You've paid for fifteen years straight away. And a bonus so I wouldn't ask questions. And another bonus for writing the bill and the contract on someone else's name, Samuel Tristan Harvelle." He chuckled. "You also told me where I'd find your money in case you wouldn't come back. You also told me to take it and burn everything I'd find in your storage before anyone else'd raid it."

"Money?" Sam's eyebrows rose high.

Dean's did too.

Harry chuckled. "Left lower drawer of the desk to the right. There's a hidden bottom panel." Then he disappeared behind the corner. Sam and Dean shared surprised looks. "Wow.", Dean croaked out. "You sure know how to surprise people." The omega cast his look down into his hand and took a deep inhale. This was the key to his past. Maybe to all of it. This was the moment where everything he had seen in visions and memories would get proofed. Where he'd get to know for certain who he had been and what he had done.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Meg ground her teeth together, as she watched both men disappear behind the heavy iron door.  
A couple of minutes earlier, and she'd have gotten her claws into that birth-giver's throat. - And the Winchester's.

The blonde gazed back over her shoulder, locking gazes with a half grown beast. Black fur moving with the cool wind, its white eyes gleaming in the light of the full moon. "Time to get the show on the road."

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

A spark of hazel lit up in the beast's white eyes. Around him his sisters and brothers were sleeping contently, while it was still chained to the hook in the stone-made floor. It tore on it mercilessly, chains rattling and cracking. It howled and snarled and made another rage of dangerous noises as the shackles tore into the skin of its feet and neck.

That was, until the biggest of them emerged from the shadows, stalking towards the pup with such grace, as its long black hair gleamed in the orange light of the gleaming fire. Orthos nudged his rebellious child against its big skull and growled into its ear, as he started to lick his wounded neck and then moved to where the hook was driven into the ground and holding back the rebellious kid of his.

... to be continued


	30. Loyaliy

Fields Of Jasmine  
Chapter 30 ~ Loyalty

Dean shoved the iron door closed behind Sam. The omega reached – more out of instinct than anything else – to his left side, along the wall. To his own, and Dean's surprise, he found the light-switch on the first try.

"Holy shit.", Dean gasped as soon as the lights were on and his gaze fell upon shelves and desks full of books, test tubes and a lot of other weird looking items. There were weapons littering a giant iron-table; including knives, guns and a whole lot of other familiar hunting things Dean only knew from his or Bobby's arsenal.

"Wow." Sam's throat went dry at what he was seeing. This was truly his? This was what he had spent his life with? It was literally a library including a labor of the supernatural. This was his. This was what he had been doing. There was proof enough for him that he'd been a hunter all along.

This didn't look like only a job to him. This was so much more. This was like an inner calling or something, as if he'd done this with all of his heart and so much more.

"Dude ... you're awesome.", Dean chuckled in disbelieve. "I thought we'd find something ... but this? THIS? Holy shit, kid. That's ... that's awesome. - You ain't only a hunter ... you're a freakin' geek. A hunter-nerd. Dude ..."

"Was.", Sam interrupted breathlessly, as his gaze continued to roam through the room.

Dean gave him a curious look.

"I was a hunter." Sam made another step into the room. Of course it wasn't that big. That may was, why he had rented two of them and – obviously – turned them into a single one. "'m not anymore."

Sam's knees started to turn into jell-o slowly. He couldn't possibly trust his legs right now.  
This was his home. Literally his home.

Now that he was here, smelled the old air and saw those shelves he knew. This had been his sanctuary at times he needed a safe haven to lay low. He KNEW this was where he came when wounded or to simply get back his strength do serious research on demons and other profound lore. He could remember those books, knew where he'd possibly find things other hunter's didn't have a clue about.

He remembered himself collapsing onto the bed at the very back of this storage room – which wasn't visible from where they were standing right now – and he remembered Harry talking to him while patching him up.

Now that he was here he remembered hovering over books and making himself coffee with that machine right beside his bed.

"It had never been an apartment I've been remembering.", Sam murmured. "This was it ... I was here. This was my retreat when I didn't know where else to go."

Dean heard what he said, while he looked around, noticing sigils and other drawings on the walls and the ceiling, even a painted key of Solomon lurked out from under a dusty old carpet beneath his feet.

"Don't tell me you've got a bathroom in here, do you?" Dean walked past Sam, but not without touching him.

"No bathroom. Toilet.", Sam mumbled and pointed to where a Portaloo was squeezed into the very last corner of the storage. "I've cleaned it out before I left last time." It was rather a half-memory than something he could really remember.

Actually they had thought they'd crash for the night as soon as they'd arrive. They didn't since they were too nosy to just lay down and sleep until the next morning. Instead the both of them started to dig through books and shelves and the desks until late into the night.

It was only when Dean noticed Sam growing too silent and thoughtful, and the omega seemed as if he was falling from the chair due to fatigue, that he directed him toward the back of the storage and made him lay down on the dusty, makeshift bed with him.

Sam drabbed the alpha beneath him, as he used his chest as pillow. Dean buried his fingers in Sam's soft hair and hummed contentedly.

Somehow proud and though worried, he found himself staring at the ceiling. This was Sam's refuge. The shadow's lair. No one else knew besides Sam. And Dean honestly doubted, that the short guy from the office truly knew with whom he had been dealing all those years.

Sam was the shadow and Dean was his partner in crime now.

The Alpha was worried that Sam would find the old version of himself…the man that had existed before those bad things had happened to him. The omega wasn't too keen about who he had been before and even seemed a bit uneasy while going through the desk and eyeing the weapons.

"You recognize those things?", Dean asked quietly.

"Some.", Sam answered straight away and sighed. "Not all of them though. I can remember what some of them are for or which cases I needed the books for. I can't remember if there's been lore about Orthos …"

The alpha breathed in deeply. "That's not the main reason why we're here."  
The omega made an unhappy sound. "That's why you came with me...in hopes that there may be information about it."

Dean frowned at that. This wasn't entirely true. "We came here because it's where you lived partly. To get some of your things. We also came because I wouldn't ever let you come alone, Sammy." He paused. "I told you we're in this together.

"But this is Lawrence."

"I know. And it doesn't matter." He needed to end this conversation before it'd ended up taking the wrong course.

"Sure it does. To you." Sam's voice was quiet and even. "I know that. It's tugging on you. That you're so close to where you lived. I can feel it."

Dean pondered that, thinking about a retort. "Yeah, well. You're right about that. But that doesn't mean that I don't want to be here with you."

The omega closed his mouth and shifted. His eyelids slid closed and he exhaled audibly. "I love you, you know that, right?"

A smile tugged on Dean's down-turned lips. "Yeah, sunshine. I know." He made a point by pausing. "I love you too. Do you know that?" Sam chuckled and nuzzled into Dean's chest. "Shut up."

"You shut up." The alpha sniffed. "Jerk." The omega couldn't help but grin. "You're a jerk." "Yeah. My jerk." Sam wrapped his arm around Dean's middle and snuggled closer – as if that was even possible. "Bitch." Dean ruffled Sam's hair. "Your bitch." "Yeah. My bitch.", the ex-hunter smoothed Sam's hair back again.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

The next morning didn't come for them before nine o'clock.

Maybe it was due the lack of noises, or the lack of sunbeams stabbing through their eye-lids since there were no windows. It might also be because the both of them were exhausted and tired as hell.

Sam was the first one to open his eyes. If it hadn't been for the pressing matter at hand – which was actually a full bladder – he wouldn't have gotten up anyway.

But since he needed to go, he had no other choice but to ease out from his mate's grasp and slip out of the makeshift bed.

Sam thought for a moment, and as tempting it may be to use the Portaloo, he didn't want to clean it afterwards. Not to mention if they forgot to clean it, he'd get an heart-attack the next time they came here. If they came here again anyway.

Sam sighed, as he staggered towards the exit and groaned as the first beams of the bright spring sun hit him right in the face. When he shoved the door open some more, it made a loud creak and groan, so the omega opened it just enough to squeeze himself through the gap.

He cringed inwardly, when the door made another shriek, hoping that he didn't wake Dean. The alpha deserved an hour or two more rest. He'd been driving the whole day yesterday with only one break in between.

Once outside, Sam pulled in a deep freeing breath. The air out here smelled clean and fresh with a hint of flowery odor. His eyes fluttered closed as he tilted his head backwards and his face towards the sun.

A gentle warmth settled over his face and warmed his cool skin tenderly.

Sam's smile widened a bit and he made a comfortable sound. Had it not been for his over-sensitive and full bladder, Sam would've stayed there a while longer, enjoying himself. But it was no use. He needed to pee. Like yesterday.

The omega walked two storage units further down and rounded the corner, before he relieved himself in some withered bush. He barely had his zipper back up, as he got snapped out of his gleeful bliss. Sam's eyes snapped open. Breath caught in his lungs.

A ray of emotions crossed his handsome features and ebbed away, leaving behind a mask of horror. Then he heard it.

Footfalls.

A familiar scent crawling up his nostrils and setting alarm-bells off. There was a snarling noise and the sound of gravel crunching under light weight. Then there was crunching gravel…it sounded heavier and so different from shoes.

"Look what we've got here.", a female voice sing-sang cheerily. There was the rattling of a chain. Not one of those heavy ones. Nope. It sounded like something thin and light. Like the ones you used to go with dogs for a walk. Sam closed his eyes as he released a shuddering breath.

"Samuel. Nice to see you again." He could literally hear her smirk. "You're the demon." Sam stated, his voice firm, not giving away his fear of what this may mean. "Indeed, boy. I am."

Sam took another calming breath and his eyes opened slowly, before he turned around to face what he knew he was going to see.

Though he braced himself, he couldn't hide the initial shock of what he saw. A blonde woman with short hair and mischievous brown-green eyes which flashed black a moment later. There was a beast beside her. The beast was a big muscular thing with long white fangs and gleaming white eyes. It was baring its teeth at him, snarling and growling. She rose her hand and the THING fell silent immediately.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Dean groaned and sniffed and made another couple of unintelligent noises as he slowly rose from the land of dreams.

"Sam?", he murmured hoarsely. His arm stretched out to where his mate was supposed to be. All he felt was the lack of another warm body and he could barely pick up the remains of Sam's scent. The alpha groaned. "Sammy?", he called out again.

At the lack of response, Dean sat up with a wince as the movement tore at his right hip and muscles in his leg. He rubbed over his face to clear his blurry vision and gazed into the lingering darkness.

"Sam?", he asked, this time even louder and with a hint of gnawing panic. He struggled out from under the covers and swung his legs out of the bed. "That ain't funny, kiddo. I'm gonna spank your perky ass!"

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

The omega's eyes narrowed at the female only a couple of yards away from him. She sighed and shook her head in a parody of sadness. "Bad news, hunter. Due the need of completing breaking the seals and my task to make sure that these things happen ..." She bit her lower lip, then tilted her head to the side. "I need to kill you."

"Is that so?" Sam's voice stayed calm. His gaze was chilly. "Look ... I am dearly sorry for this." She rolled her eyes at herself. "No I’m actually not." She eyed Sam some more. "You know this would be so much more fun if you'd at least TRY to run ... or somethin'." Sam shook his head, standing his ground. "I am done running."

"Oh." She made a surprised sound. "Look who’s grown a big pair of balls." She made a sweet noise. "I'm sorry – that ain't possible, isn't it?" Meg chuckled evilly. All Sam could do right now was to glare at her. Well, besides the bitch-face he threw her way.

"Just get it over with, will ya'?" Sam prayed that Dean would hear him. That he'd latch onto the urgency he was trying to reach his mate with. He hoped most of all, that it'd work. The omega had read that mates had some sort of psychic connection – or so he thought at least.

He swore to himself that he'd never again go out pee by himself – at least not completely unarmed.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Dean pressed his back up against the brick-wall, feeling the uneven surface dig through his tee and into his muscles. Green fire was burning in his eyes as he heard that bitch talk. He gritted his teeth together so not to make a single sound – not even the growl which dared to erupt from his throat.

The alpha held his gun close to his chest. The safety was already off and his finger twitched against the trigger when he heard the demon's beast snarl. He knew if he messed this up, it would be Sam and him paying dearly.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Meg cocked an eyebrow and her ears perked up, as if she had heard something. Her grin widened and her lips twitched. "No need to hide, handsome.", she hummed and raised her hand. A split moment later, a surprised grunt and a loud thud was heard. Nothing more.

"Dinner's ready, baby.", she whispered and petted the thing's head. It looked up at her and she gave it a wave with her hand. Sam's eyes widened in horror. "No," he breathed. "No. Don't. It's me you want. Not him." His voice broke, suddenly powerless and raw.

The demon titled her head to the side and pursed her lips. She acted as if she was thinking, but she actually wasn't. Not at all.

"You stay.", she growled at the young omega, as he attempted to storm at her or go after the beast. He himself wasn't quite sure what he wanted to do.

Sam felt an invisible force – like a rope – wrap around his neck and suddenly he found himself air-born and pinned to the wall of a rusty-brown container-wall. All air got knocked out of his lungs on impact and the back of his head made brutal contact too.

The blonde girl sauntered over to him, holding him in place with her telekinetic abilities. Sam desperately tried to get much needed oxygen into his lungs. He was so screwed. He'd taken Dean down that road with him. Dean. His alpha. God. No. His gaze flickered towards where the beast had disappeared around the corner.

"Let him go.", Sam gasped, fixing the girl with a rebellious look. "It's me you wanted. You have me. Please." Again she acted as if she was pondering Sam's suggestion, but shook her head with a wide grin. "You know that I like it when you beg, right? Always did." She bat her lashes at him. "Well ... Savanger did anyway. At least ... you know how it goes ... until he died." Meg pursed her lips again. "It's honestly a pity that I've to kill you. You'd be the perfect pet for ... whoever I'd be riding in the future."

"Screw you!", the omega spat at her, trying to free himself from the invisible grasp around his neck. "I'd never go back. I'd rather die." Meg made a tsking noise, then sighed. "Right. About that." Her eyes narrowed at him and the next second, Sam's throat was closing up on him further. "I like to watch.", she continued with a smirk. "Death is something beautiful. Especially when people are begging me for it. Nonetheless. I don't have time for that kind of fun right now." She paused, seemed to think for a moment and then looked aside. "BUT, I sure as hell can draw it out some more and ..." She got interrupted by a loud whine and a screech. For a millisecond, her grasp on Sam faded. "Cerber!", she called out, whipping her head around to look in the direction the beast had disappeared.

"Dean.", Sam croaked out desperately, clawing on the invisible restraint pressing into his soft flesh.

"Cerber!", she hissed through gritted teeth. A dark creature appeared from behind the container. But, it sure wasn't the one Meg had been calling for. This one was different. It looked different. It was a bit taller and seemed lankier even though there was a lot of black fur covering its body. Its eyes weren't perfectly white and there was blood.

Sam choked out a breath, feeling resignation take the place of rebellion in his heart. What had he left to fight for if Dean wasn't there anymore? What was he worth without his alpha? The man who had saved him and gave him so much more than anyone could ever imagine.

As the demon looked back at the thing her eyes grew wide and she spun around, her mouth hanging open. "What have you done?!", she half-growled half-snarled at the beast.

It tilted its head to the side and it nearly looked as if it was grinning back at her, telling her "Gotcha, bitch." For a nano-second, Sam even thought he saw a flash of brown gleaming up in its eyes, but it was too fast to be sure. Sam's mind was too clouded to be able to decide if it was an optical illusion.

Sam's vision was blurry at best and unconsciousness was daring to take him out right there as he found himself on the verge of slipping away.

The monster was taking on its fighting-stance, the hairs on its back rising up. It snarled and bared its sharp teeth at the demon. Or, how Sam saw the whole thing through the mist of oxygen deprivation, it was snarling at him.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Dean's eyelids fluttered and a muscle in his neck twitched as he slowly started to come back to himself. For long seconds he couldn't place where those weird sounds were coming from, nor why it was so damn bright. Wasn't he in Sam's lair? And why the hell was the mattress that hard? Hadn't he been sleeping on something softer?

A groan fell from the ex-hunter's lips and at the first conscious intake of air into his lungs, he felt the all too familiar stab of pain. He wasn't supposed to be hurting either, was he?

That was about the moment everything came crushing down on him. Waking up to find Sam gone. Getting his gun and a clip of special ammo from the desk where Sam's weapons were laid out. Not that he consciously knew why he was doing it, nor how he could know that this clip would fit into his gun. Later on Dean would figure, that it had been Sam leading him there and telling him which clip to take from the table.

It had been like a feeling, a call – something or someone – telling him what to do. Dean standing, with his back pressed up against a container and listening to someone's talk. Then the snarls and growls. Eventually the picture as he snatched a glance from behind the corner.

Sam pinned to another container. The blonde haired demon and the beast in the middle of the corridor facing Sam. Dean had heard screeching noises, like claws against metal and then something took him down from above. All he could remember after that, was blackness.

That was about the same moment that he felt an heavy weight upon him. The alpha's eyes snapped open and he tried to take a deep inhale. An impossible attempt, since the weight which was crushing him belonged to a black fury creature. He gasped and choked back bile as a wave of dizziness and nausea overcame him.

"Sam.", he croaked out, realizing the complete silence he was surrounded by. "Dammit."  
Had he shot that thing?

Eventually, Dean managed to roll the thing off of him and when he finally staggered onto his feet and straightened up, he saw his gun only a few feet away from him in the gravel. "I'm gettin' too old for that shit.", he grumbled under his breath. "Fuckin' bastard."

Dean limped towards it and picked it up. Then he made his way around the container in a jog (well, rather a fast limp) and stopped immediately when he saw the scene before him ...

... to be continued


	31. The Book

Fields Of Jasmine  
Chapter 31 ~ The Book

His breath caught in his throat, unwilling to leave his body.

For agonizing, long minutes he was unable to move, unable to think. His mind was blank like a white sheet of paper.

Another wave of dizziness and nausea latched onto him. He swayed and for a short glimpse of time he felt like the ground under his feet was moving. Dean couldn't tell if it was because of his concussion or because of the scene presented to him.

“Sammy.” Finally, his throat would allow a merciful exhale. Another couple of long seconds passed until the rigidity subsided and allowed his wobbly legs to move. He found himself kneeling in between his omega's prone form and the mauled demon on the ground. Dean’s hands were hovering over Sam as if he wasn't sure it was a good idea to move him.

Dean didn't know how badly Sam was injured – if his spine or head were hurt – or if there was a possibility that he'd cause even more injuries by moving him. No, he couldn't go there. Not again. Not after what Sam had already been through, right?

Wasn't there a point where it'd be enough? When would this end?

“Sammy.”, he whispered hoarsely, barely touching the younger man's cheek. He didn't care that there was a pool of blood and high likely guts beneath his knees. Dean didn't care that he was messing up his boots where they touched the bloody mess on the ground. He didn't care about the stains in his favorite jeans either.

Though there was a lot of blood, it didn't look as if it was Sam's. The omega looked uninjured except for the angry, red mark winding around his neck where the demon had him pinned.

A muscle in Sam's throat twitched. Then one in his jaw. A small noise fell from the omega's parted lips. Before he could stop himself, Dean had his hands all over his mate's form before he laid them on his face, tilting his head up and waiting for his almond-shaped eyes to open. He hadn't have to wait for too long.

There was another soft noise and his eyelids fluttered. A wheezing breath followed another and dazed hazel-eyes slowly started to clear. The omega's lips moved, but no sound came out. No sound at all.

“It's okay.”, Dean tried to sooth, as Sam reached for his throat and the raw skin there. Instantly, Sam tried to ask his mate if he was hurt, but it was no use. His vocal cords wouldn't obey, at all.

Sam's shaky hand came up and touched the ex-hunter's temple, where a smear of blood covered his skin and made his short hair sticky. There was already a bruise forming too. Worriedly, he looked up at the older man with a concerned gaze.

“It's nothin' bad.”, Dean tried to reassure. “Just a scratch.” The omega's fingertips fluttered over the spot once again and the alpha hissed. Even without using his voice, Dean could tell what he would say.

It made him smile. That stubborn side of Sam had only shown since he was able to remember his past. It was like a part of him got resurrected and now both sides of him were melting together into yet another character. Not that it was a bad thing. Dean sure didn't miss the too quiet and too pensive Sam that much, but sometimes, he wondered if there was more of the “old” Sam still to come back.

“It's fine.”, he said and patted his omega's hand away. “Don't you worry.” Sam pursed his lips, his forehead furrowed and his eyebrows drew close so they nearly made a line. He knew perfectly well that Dean wasn't fine. He could feel it. Sense it. The ex-hunter was putting on an act.

That was what it was.

Sam sat up awkwardly and made a hoarse sound. “I'd say we get out of here.” The ex-hunter's voice broke as he had to swallow. “'m … Fuck.” A concussion was nothing to play with. Dean knew that. But he also thought that it'd be even worse if Sam had to worry about him. Before he'd collapse or get worse, he needed to get his mate out of here and far away.

There were twelve other creatures out there somewhere and no one knew where. Dean Winchester wasn't going to risk anything here. He wouldn't risk Sam's life.

Though, his head didn't seem to like the idea of movement right then. The world around him started to spin and dark dots danced in front of his eyes. His vision was growing blurrier by the passing second. “Sammy.”, was all he got out, before everything went dark.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

The fire and smoke were visible from quite a distance.

They'd find nothing. No corpses, no hunter's liar. Nothing. The fire would eat it all up – including that big part of Samuel Harvelle's past.

Sam didn’t think that it was all bad or anything, but he felt kind of sad at the loss. He also figured it was best to leave this place as quickly as possible – without leaving any traces of himself or what had happened there.

So Sam had gotten the Impala and had loaded Dean into the backseat. He had taken exquisite care so that his alpha would lie as comfortable as possible with his head propped up on Sam's leather jacket and his body covered with a blanket from the trunk. Then he'd gotten the weapons and stored them in the trunk and had loaded as many books as possible.

He covered most of the surfaces with gasoline, making sure that nothing would be left behind – including both corpses which he had dragged inside. Sam knew the risks and he felt it was a bit of a failure drawing so much attention to this place, but he had no other choice, had he?

He wanted neither humans nor demons to find this place. Nor did he want anyone to dig around in his belongings. It was too dangerous. For all of them. So it had to be burned.

The whole thing was prepared and done within two hours, during which Dean was out cold. Sure, Sam had thought about heading to a hospital, but then again … he was pretty sure that it was a concussion and they wouldn't do anything else than he would. Besides, they'd ask a lot of stupid questions and Sam had no clue which of Dean Winchester’s fake-ids were still good to use.

Sam couldn't tell how he knew that this seemed like only a concussion and nothing worse, but he knew. He knew that rest and sleep and staying in bed would get Dean back on his feet. So he decided the best thing for both of them would be to drive for a few miles and then find a motel they could stay in.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

The whole passenger's seat and the foot-area were full with stacks of books. So was a part of the trunk where he'd found enough space to put some more.

Then he'd gotten the money which was hidden in the drawer of his desk and had handed it to Harry, telling him that it was time to leave for good.

As for the money – Sam knew it was only fair to give the ten grand to the man, since there'd be quite some damage done until the fire department arrived. He told Harry not to go look and to wait fifteen minutes before he'd call the fire service.

His talk with Harry had been a raspy and rather painful endeavor, but he managed to get his point across to the short beta. He only nodded with huge eyes.

Harry hadn't even seemed too mad. Instead, he gave him a manly bear hug and said goodbye to the young omega then promised that he'd come after Dean if he didn’t take care of Sam properly.

Sam had to smile at that. He wondered if the man had always known that he hadn't been an alpha or beta. Well, he was actually positive about that, since he figured that Harry had to have seen the suppressants at some point while taking care of him.

Anyway. None of that really mattered right now. First things first.

The young omega climbed behind the wheel and, after a couple of fruitless attempts on getting the car's engine started, he eventually managed to get out of town without stalling the car.

Sam breathed more freely when he turned up on the highway, heading back north. At least he hoped he was heading back north.

There were a couple of motels the first two hundred miles, but he didn't pick either of them since he had the feeling that it'd be better if he'd get some more distance between them and Lawrence.

There was a small no name town after milestone 673.

The motel he found looked a bit run down from the outside with a half-working neon sign that signaled they had vacancies for half of the price as usual. Sam didn't know exactly how much money they had, but he dearly hoped that Dean had enough in his wallet to rent one of those rooms for tonight and maybe tomorrow too.

Sam gazed into the rearview mirror after he had parked the car with a concerned frown. Dean hadn't woken up so far. That hopefully wasn't a bad sign.

Maybe he should have taken the alpha to an ER. Maybe he should've let a doctor check him over. Doing so also meant drawing attention which they surely didn't need right now. Hell, Sam didn't even know if that demon was really dead or if it had escaped while its vessel was mauled to death.

Also, there was still the creature out there somewhere. Actually, it was his creature. A part of him. His child. He understood why Dean wouldn't or couldn't think that way, but it had been a part of Sam for a pretty long time, even during the time he hadn't known that he was carrying it.

It had saved his life. Orpheus – at least that was what the demon had called it before it ripped her throat out – had protected him. It hadn't hurt him, nor had it seemed to intend to do him any harm.

It hadn’t intended to harm Dean either.

That meant that this thing – or whatever you call it – wasn't evil, was it?

No evil thing would do that. Especially not Orthos' child, since they were supposed to kill. Maybe it only wanted to make him feel that way, but maybe it wasn't. As long as there remained even the tiniest maybe, it deserved the benefit of the doubt.

Anyway. He had very different pressing matters right now. Like the one in the backseat. Sam thought about how he'd manage this whole thing without having someone by his side to take the lead or at least to back him up.

It wasn't like he was afraid per say. Okay, he might feel a bit nauseous at the thought of going into that office over there to rent a room. And he might even feel skiddy about doing it all by himself without Dean by his side, but…oh, who was he kidding? He was scared, but he had no choice.

The omega gazed into the backseat, avoiding the rearview mirror as he did so. Sam knew that he had to do this. He couldn't drive with Dean like that for the rest of the way. Besides … he wasn't even sure where the hell he was right now.

“I can do this.”, he told himself quietly. “I have to.”

And before he could overthink the whole thing, he was out of the car and on his way to the door, where “office” was written in neon letters, blinking invitingly. Once inside, he found a rather old woman with curlers in her hair and makeup all over her wrinkled face behind the counter. Her thin, bright red lips seemed to practically glow to Sam's tired eyes.

He blinked. Sam blinked again. “What can I do for you, kid?”, she asked softly, offering a toothless smile.

“I'd need a room.”, he croaked out. Her smile widened. “You've got any money?”

Sam facepalmed himself internally, as he realized that he hadn't gotten Dean's wallet before leaving the car. “Ye-eah … In the car.”, he answered a bit helpless. The old lady squinted at him curiously. Then she took a deep inhale and pursed her lips, eyeing the young omega for a very long time, since he stayed frozen to his place.

“Then … why don't you get it then?” Both of her eyebrows rose high on her forehead. That was about the moment Sam realized that they weren't even real eyebrows the old lady had there. They were painted. Painted.

“Yeah … yeah, of course.” Sam turned on his heels and left the office quickly. Back in the car he got the wallet Dean had been wearing the day before, which gladly was in the glove compartment instead of in his jeans. Not that he didn't like to grope his mate. But this was slightly different. Actually, Sam hoped that Dean wouldn't wake until they were in their room.

Once back inside, Sam paid for two nights and the old lady gave him the keys to a room with a double queen.

Sam brought the Impala around the building where their room was supposed to be and parked it closest to the outstretched porch. First he wanted to get their duffels and the first aid kit inside, but had to realize, that those were buried beneath weapons and books in the trunk.

Reversing his former idea, he hurried to get their room unlocked and left the door wide open while he went back to the car. He looked around, making sure that no one would actually see him dragging someone into a motel room.

This could go wrong in so many ways.

Luckily, there didn't seem to be anyone around. No other cars in the parking lot besides an old and rusty pick up which looked more like a wreck in the last beams of the setting sun.

The omega climbed into the back of the Impala. “Dean.”, he whispered, and laid his hand on the alpha's cheek, feeling his cool skin. “I … I'll have to take you to the hospital if you're not wakin' up soon.” Sam's throat was dry and felt raw as he spoke. He waited, hoping that the threat would make his mate stir.

But Dean kept on being absent to this world.

With a sigh, Sam manhandled him into a sitting position and then managed to get him out from the car. Ever so carefully, he picked him up and shifted him in his grasp as soon as he stood upright.

The ex-hunter's weight tore on his muscles after only a couple of seconds. Dean's head lolled into the crook of his neck as he shifted him again, to try and gain more leverage and hold him tighter.  
Through his own exhaustion, the omega managed to kick the door shut with his butt and bring the alpha inside where he laid him onto the bed.

Once he had arranged him, he hurried back outside and got the salt from the trunk. He then made  
sure that Dean's baby was locked down properly and went back into their rented room.  
More because of his instincts than anything, Sam started to salt the door and windows and when he was done, he abandoned the can of salt on the ground. He then went back to Dean's side and checked him over.

The alpha's pulse was steady and strong against the tips of his fingers, and his breaths were even and deep.

If there wasn't clear evidence that Dean had been thrown around, he'd look like he was slumbering peacefully. With a thoughtful expression, Sam made himself move and get the duffel and first aid kit from the car since he had decided to get his mate inside first.

“Fuck.”, he growled. Actually, Sam felt as if he was about to pass out. He was too tired, too exhausted, but he had to get those duffels and the kit so he could get Dean cleaned up.

He needed to do that before he crashed and gave into his own desires. So he pushed himself out of the door again and headed back to the Impala. After about fifteen minutes of digging through the trunk and getting everything back inside so that it'd fit and that the trunk could be closed without too much violence, he headed back to their room.

A heavy sigh fell from his lips, as he kicked the door shut, locked it, and dumped the duffles and first aid kit on the table. Sam glanced at Dean for a long moment, making sure that he was still breathing and headed into the bathroom afterwards, gathering the two towels and washcloths.

Sadly there wasn't a basin of any kind, so he may have to wet the washcloths and one of the towels in the sink. That didn't bother him that much. Though a basin would've been useful.

Sam let the water of the sink run until it became hot. While waiting, he leaned against the sink with closed eyes and took a couple of deep breaths. He was trying to force back black and grey dots before his vision. He tried to ignore the burning need in his very bones to lie down flat and rest his eyes. The omega pried his eyes open, when he felt warm steam rising and turned the water off. He then wrung out the washcloths and one of the towels and headed back into the bedroom where he put them on the nightstand.

“'m gonna get you cleaned up.”, Sam murmured rather to himself. “I think that cut needs stitches.”  
Carefully, he started to clean the dried blood from Dean's forehead, temple and hair. He tilted his head to the side as he eyed the cut, debating with himself if it truly needed stitches.

If it wasn’t necessary, he would leave it as it was and only cover it with antiseptic salve. He actually thought that he could save time if he didn’t, that meant that he'd hit the hay faster.

A small sigh escaped his lips and he reached up at his own face and touched the scar. “Stitches it is.” Despite the need to sleep and rest, he didn't want the ex-hunter to live with a scar because he'd been too selfish.

Sam was careful and tender while he stitched Dean up with shaky hands. When he was done, he eyed his handy work and smiled satisfied. That one wouldn't leave a scar.

He cast his look to the floor where he had dumped the towels and gauze. Sam was supposed to clean that up before he turned in. He just couldn't find a reason, for the love of god, to do it. No one else would clean up that mess, so who cared if it'd stay where it was?

It wasn't like anyone would care, right?

He could put the things away in the morning.

Except for the suturing kit and the first aid kit of course. That one, he put on the nightstand and away from the bed. Sam moved slowly towards the end of the bed and pulled Dean's boots off of his feet. He then removed his own and laid down on the other side. Sam took the blanket and comforter from his half and threw them over Dean's prone form, leaving his face uncovered.

For a moment he thought about getting a blanket from the car for himself, but he didn't want to move now. The mattress felt incredibly comfortable. He'd get the blankets when he started to get cold anyway – just not now.

NOW he'd sleep and rest his eyes. Sam turned to the side, facing Dean. He laid his hand over the ex-hunter's heart and let his eyes drift closed.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Sam didn't wake when Dean did. Sam didn't wake when the older man crawled out of bed and slipped out from under his grasp. He didn't even stir, when the mattress dipped or when Dean nearly tripped over the towels on the floor as he went towards the bathroom.

Dean got himself two vicodine from the duffel and swallowed them with half a bottle of left-over water he found in Sam's duffel.

Once done, he crawled back into bed under the covers and threw the ones he had been covered with before, over Sam. The alpha tugged them close around the omega and pulled them up high over his shoulders and neck. Before getting up, Dean had thought he'd manage to get them breakfast or something. But now that he was back from the toilet, he figured it was a lot better to lie back down since his head wouldn't allow him anything else.

Dean closed his eyes again with a contented sigh dying on his lips. He had no clue how he got here or where they were, but Sam was here too. As it looked, Sam had been the one to bring them here.

So it had to be okay. The windows and the door were salted as much as he had been able to see from when he had gotten up. There was a slightly red mark around his mate's neck from where he had been held by the demon, strangled by the demon. Other than that – and being a bit dirty – there didn't seem to be any other injuries.

Dean inched closer to his omega and wrapped his arm around his middle. His head didn't like this kind of movement as it was sending sharp stabbing pain through his skull. He shuddered when his own skin touched Sam's exposed lower arm. A violent shudder coursed down Dean's spine as he felt cold skin. “Sammy.”, he groaned disapproving and inched closer until he lay flush along Sam's side. “You're a fuckin' icicle, dude.” Dean shuddered again.

It didn't last too long, he drifted off into a deep drug-induced sleep. When he woke again, it was to bright sunlight flooding the room. He felt his hand held by Sam's. He didn't need to open his eyes either to see that Sam must have turned around and was now lying with the back against Dean's chest, being the little spoon. Since he still felt like crap and since Sam was safe and sleeping soundly beside him, Dean decided that it wouldn't do any harm if he'd let himself being pulled down into sleep again.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Sam made a small sound when he shifted against his alpha's chest and snuggled closer. Incoherent words fell from his lips.

That wasn't what woke Dean at all. What woke him, was a knock at their door. First he figured he could ignore it anyway. If it was room service – which was questionable – they could bring towels later.

The second knock was a bit more demanding and louder.

With a groan, Dean rolled onto his back. “Wait.”, he mumbled. “One minute!”, he called out a bit hoarse, surprised at how his voice sounded. It was raw and thin as if he hadn't used his vocal cords in days.

His body was slow and stiff as he made it to the door and looked through the peephole where he discovered a rather petite old lady with curlers in her hair and bright red lipstick. Dean made a sound between surprise and annoyance.

“Who's this?”, he called out.  
“Figured I've to call the police, boys.” The woman's smoke-rough voice pierced through Dean's ears and set a ray of white sparks across his vision. “Haven't seen anyone leave the damn room the past couple'o days.”

Dean thought for a moment. Days? “Nah, we're fine.”, he answered thoughtfully.  
He gazed back over his shoulder towards the bed. He didn't remember Sam getting up, did he? His look lingered on the young man for a few seconds, trying to recall any memory after he had gotten jumped by that demonic creature.

There were glimpses of Sam's face hovering close to his. The feel of Sam being close and the sharp stench of worry lingering in the air. Glimpses of Sam offering him water and pills. Gentle touches. The faint memory of being jostled and being walked to the bathroom.

Ugly green tiles and Sam's big hand on his shoulder. Dean tried to recall more, but the old lady's voice cut through his trail of thoughts. “Well then. How about you pay for yesterday and today then? I ain't no Samaritan, ya' know?” The alpha blinked surprised. Again – Days? Really? Had it been that long? How long were they here already?

The alpha's stomach gave a protesting growl when he thought about when he'd eaten the last time. He tore his gaze away from Sam and back at the peephole. “Yeah. Sure. No problem, lady.”, Dean mumbled absently and frowned. “In fifteen minutes in ya' office?” There was a beat of silence. “'kay. - And don't you think you'd get away without payin', boy. I've got a sawed off under the counter. And I damn well make use of it.” Dean's left eyebrow tilted up as he watched the lady turn around and shuffle away. He blew out a thoughtful breath and shook his head. The ex-hunter sniffed at himself and his face scrunched up in disgust. He smelled. Actually he stunk. Like dead – real dead - roadkill or something. Maybe he should've told the lady that he'd come in twenty minutes or half an hour. Dean looked down at himself and realized that Sam must've gotten him dressed into clean clothes, because the last thing he remembered was blood and gore all over.

Anyway. He had to get dressed and he had to get that dead-taste out of his mouth and look for his wallet. Again his gaze drifted towards Sam. Even asleep, the young man looked stressed, with creases of distress on his forehead.

Dean reached up to his temple and massaged it, his eyes shut tight at the wave of vertigo and pain. There was something itchy on his forehead right at his hairline and as his fingers brushed over neat stitches he made a surprised sound.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

When Dean returned from the lady's office with a stack of towels, he checked on the saltlines and Sam - who was still deep asleep.

He went to bring the towels into the bathroom. He then checked on his mate briefly, before heading back into the bathroom and turning the shower on. The alpha shed his clothes as fast as humanly possible and crawled into the shower stall where scolding hot water hit his grimy feeling skin.

He didn't know how long he took under the spray before hot water turned warm and warm turned lukewarm … and eventually cool. Dean didn't care. Actually, he was too sunken in his thoughts to notice the change of temperature.

When it started to get too uncomfortable, he turned the water off, toweled his hair and body dry and glanced through the ajar door of the bathroom towards the bed. Sam hadn't moved.  
He then snuck out and got the shaving kit and toothbrush from his duffel, so that he'd look halfway acceptable again. Not that he didn't look nice with that beard of his. Sure, when it was trimmed, he did, but that took a lot of time. Well, not that much of time, but Dean Winchester actually didn't feel like treating his beard each day with care. He rather shaved instead of standing in front of the damn mirror and trimming his facial hair into the right shape.

He had to have had a concussion. A severe concussion as it looked like. The lack of memory, the feel of constant nausea and the throbbing behind his eyes. That and the stitches, it all added up.

Though, nothing could possibly outweigh the tearing pain starting in his hip and cutting down into his toes. It made him cringe inwardly, as it reminded him that this would never go away. That he had to live with this pain for the rest of his life …

After shaving, Dean brushed his teeth and gurgled with Listerine to destroy the last remnants of bad taste in his mouth. The alpha was halfway through packing away his belongings, when he heard the faint buzz of his phone. Though he continued to put his things away and when he was done, he went back into the bedroom, where he found his phone on the nightstand beside a bottle of pills and a nearly empty bottle of orange juice.

Obviously Sam had been out shopping or something, since he couldn't remember having juice with them.

“Bobby?”, he asked after pushing the green button and putting the phone to his ear. The familiar gruff voice of his surrogate father was heard. Obviously the old man was surprised to hear the younger Winchester and instantly started to ask him how they were doing and told him that it was good to hear him.

“Sam called?”, Dean asked after the grizzled hunter told him that the omega had called and informed him that they'd take longer to return to the Salvage and that they had gotten attacked.

“Not quite. I called and he called me back. Said he wouldn't want to get you into the car until you're back on ya' feet again.”

Dean sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yeah. Guess that bastard got me good.”  
“Dean.” “Yeah, Bobby?” “You need backup?” The old man sounded worried. “You know I'd-”  
“Nah. It's fine. We got this.” He smiled softly. “Guess we'll take off tomorrow mornin'. - Ellen and Jim got the book?”

Robert Singer huffed out a grumbled sound. “Yeah. Those idiots managed to get caught on tape though. Gladly they didn't get their faces on the footage.” The alpha chuckled quietly. “Got anything?”

“I'm on it. It's pretty cryptic from what I can tell so far. Guess we've to interpret some topics right to get a handle on what the author meant. – five hundred pages of poetry, kid. That's worse than reading latin.” Bobby didn't sound annoyed though. In fact he sounded amused. “That guy – who wrote the Diluculat – sounds rather like some kind of prophet. No wonder they burned him on the pyre. Too clever for his own good.” “Good. - See you tomorrow, right?” “Right, kid. - You sure you don't need me to come and getcha? Don't want you guys wrapped around a tree or somethin'.” There was hesitation and concern heavy in his voice. “Sam didn't sound any better than you do right now.”

That had Dean look in Sam's direction once more. He bit the inside of his lower lip and released a shuddering breath. “I'll take care of him. Don't worry old man.” Bobby grumbled. “I didn't question you taking care of him. I questioned you and him being capable of a five hours drive, kid.” The grizzled beta had his own way of saying “I love you” and “I'm sorry” and most of all “I'm worried sick about the two of you”.

But that was alright. Dean knew. And so did Bobby. They didn't need to get all warm and fuzzy and sharing over those things.

“I'll call when we blow this popsicle.” Translated it meant, that he understood the older man's worries and that he thought they weren't necessary.

They said their goodbyes and Dean stuffed the phone into the front-pocket of his jeans. He then went to the bed at Sam's side and sat down at the very edge, eyeing the younger man intently. After a while he laid his hand on Sam's bicep and squeezed gently. “Hey, baby.”, he whispered softly. “Wake up.” Dean carded his fingers through his omega's thick hair and smoothed it back.

Sam's nose scrunched up and he sniffed, a disapproving sound falling from his lips. That sound which made Dean chuckle every time he heard it.

“C'mon, wake up, Sammy.” It was true that Dean wanted nothing more than to get back under the covers and take another long nap, but he was starving actually so he had to get food. He wouldn't leave Sam alone – and most of all asleep.

“Baby boy. I need you to wake. Can't have you freakin' out when you wake up and I'm gone.” Because it was true. Sam would wake up and find Dean gone and nowhere to be found, he'd panic. Because that was what Dean would actually do. He'd rip the world a new one …

Sam's eyelids fluttered and bleary hazel-eyes appeared, which snapped open completely the very moment the omega's brain proceeded what and who had woke him up.

“Dean.”, he choked out and before the alpha could react, Sam had him wrapped up in long arms and was pulling him down, burying his face in the alpha's neck. “You're awake.”

The ex-hunter went down with Sam, landing heavily on him. “Yeah, sweetheart.”, he mumbled and wrapped his arms around Sam in return. “'I'm awake.”

“How're you doin'?” The omega pulled back and took in Dean's face. All freckles and dimples and green bright eyes. Looking so alive and much less pale than the days before. “'m fine.” Dean's lips quirked into a smile. “My head's a bit sore still.”

That put a dark layer over Sam's face. His hand came to a rest on the hunter's cheek, feeling warm, soft shaved skin against his palm. His face turned more serious. “I was worried.”

“It's fine. No need to worry. Ain't my first concussion, ya' know?” He tried to lighten the mood, to make Sam think of it like he did. It was one concussion of many. And as soon as he was – at least – a part-time hunter, it wouldn't be his last one.

… to be continued


	32. Heat

You guys see, I do what I can to embed your requests for this story. 2 of you guys thought it's going to easy between Sam and Dean and asked me to spice things up.   
Well, here we go. I'm spicing things up.   
But that's only possible because it fits into that part of the story. - SOMEHOW  
You guys can say THANK YOU to the both anonymus prompters for the cliffhanger. 'Cause this chapter wasn't supposed to have one at all. But now it definitely does ^^

Fields Of Jasmine  
Chapter 32 ~ Heat

As it turned out, Sam had fed them from a vending machine for the past couple of days. That was where the orange juice and cherry juice were from. That small tarts and pies. 

Dean could even remember the sticky sweet artificial taste of apple in between too sweet juice and bitter pills. Dean wasn't too surprised to find the vendor quite empty too. Obviously they've been there for a few days already and the vending machine was the only thing close enough for Sam to get food for the both of them without having to leave Dean for longer than fifteen minutes. Not that it looked like as if there was any kind of civilisation for another hundred or twohundred miles around anyway. 

“Where'd you get the coins from?”, Dean wondered as he eyed the heap of empty bottles and papers on the small kitchenette. “Don't remember havin' that much.”, he added in a mumble. 

“There were about twenty dollars in the car. Searched the upholstery and glove compartement.”, Sam answered and yawned as he rolled on his back, swallowing a wince as the bruise on his back made itself known. The omega's voice still sounded hoarse and raw and used. He also looked exhausted despite that he had slept and that he should've been well rested. 

His eyes were trained at Dean, who sat at the table and unwrapped two chocolate chip muffins which he had gotten from the vending machine. He also had come back with two big mugs of coffee. One black and one golden brown, smelling like vanilla and sugar. 

Dean stole a glance at the younger man. “Coffee's getting' cold over here. Old creepy lady wants her mugs back too.” He grinned mischievously. “Not that I could say that she's not motherly.” He chuckled. “Then again … she threatened me with her gun if I don't get them back to her. - AND she's chargin' five dollars if we break them.” He paused and tilted his head to the side. “She's a ray of sunshine.”

Sam smiled softly. Seeing Dean acting like before. Seeing him walking and talking properly. That was nice. He'd been worried that he had made the wrong call by holing up at the motel instead bringing his mate to the ER. 

And he would have if Dean hadn't improved. He'd dumped all sense of wit and sent it down the drain.   
After the first day, when Sam had woken up to Dean retching and hanging over the edge of the bed and puking onto the greasy dark-blue carpet he had feared that the ex hunter was worse as he had first thought. 

He had also packed up their duffels and was ready to hit the road with him, searching the next hospital. But Dean had pushed him away and told him that it wasn't necessary and that there was no way he'd go into a hospital because of such a minor thing like a concussion. 

Though, the ex hunter hadn't seen himself the way Sam had. Dean hadn't been pale. He'd been gray. Dark half-moons under his eyes. His circles dazed. And his mind obviously disoriented as he was drifting in and out of consciousness and talking about things to someone Sam couldn't see. 

The omega had made sure that Dean'd stay hydrated and made him eat all the junk food he could find. 

Only small serves each time Dean'd wake up. He'd gotten all the tarts and chocolate bars, water and juice from the vending machine on the first day, making sure he wouldn't have to leave his mate for unnecessary things like food or even water. 

Sam hadn't dared to sleep peacefully either. He had woken every couple of hours with a start during the nights, afraid he'd forget to check on Dean, or miss something – like him stopping to breathe. 

Sure, Bobby had reassured and told him, that it looked worse than it obviously was and he had also told the young omega, that concussed people were sometimes halluzinating. But then again, Sam remembered one of his half-memories, that those symptoms could also be signs of a head-trauma. 

Then …   
Yesterday, Dean had improved drastically. 

The ex hunter had slept more peacefully and there hadn't been any invisible people he was talking to. There hadn't been vomitting or moaning in his sleep. Dean also had seemed more stable on his feet when he brought him into the bathroom to take care of his business.   
So Sam had dared to lie down and let himself sleep deeper for the first time within the past four days. 

Dean squinted at Sam, noticing that he was far away with his thoughts. Instead of ordering him to come to the table for breakfast again, he grabbed the mug with sweet coffee and the muffin and walked over to the bed, where he sat down at Sam's side, right beside his waist. 

“C'mon. - Breakfast.” He smiled warmly at Sam. 

The omega's lips tilted upwards slightly. Ever so carefully, he moved backwards, though it looked a bit awkward and stiff. So as bad as he wanted to hide his bruised back from his mate, Dean would know. He couldn't possibly hide such a thing from him. Every bit as Dean couldn't hide his injury from Sam. 

The alpha's face darkened. “You're hurt.”, he stated coldly. 

“Nah, not as bad. Only bruised and sore. I'll be fine.” Sam eventually managed to shove himself up and lean against the headboard. He took the mug from Dean's hand while he watched Dean watching him. 

“I'm okay. For real.”  
“I'll have a look at it anyway. - After Breakfast.”, Dean said in that very serious tone he used when he was that serious with a hint of angry, that that small vein on his forehead would start to pulsate.

Sam nodded. 

Then there was silence.   
Dean went to get his own coffee and the muffin and sat down on the bed right beside Sam. “What happened back there?”

Sam looked up through long bangs of hair. “What do you remember?”, he asked calmly and slurped on his coffee. 

Dean thought for a moment. “Gettin' jumped by the … that monster. - The demon looked as if it exploded.” He gave Sam a curious look. “How'd you do it?”

Sam made a barely hearable sound. “I didn't do anything.” He paused.   
Dean only looked at him and straightened up slightly.   
“He did it.” The omega bit his lower lip. “He saved you. - Then he saved me. He killed the demon. Not me.”

The alpha hummed low. “Who's he?” He spoke softly, though he sounded as if he was on edge.   
Sam brushed his hair back, but it fell back into his face. He laid the muffin onto the comforter and took a deep inhale. Then there were another few moments of silence. 

Dean gave him the time he needed to find the right words. Even though he felt like pushing since he was sure he wouldn't like what he'd hear. 

“Orpheus. - My child.”, Sam said so very softly that it was barely hearable.   
Okay, out of all things he thought he'd hear, that was definitely not one of them. 

Dean stared blankly at his mate.   
Sam cast his look down.   
Dean continued to stare, holding his breath.   
Sam waited for his mate to say something. For an outburst. Or for accusing him to be ridiculous.   
“Say something.”, Sam mumbled after the silence continued. 

Dean opened his mouth and shut it again, the words getting caught in his throat. What was actually better than spitting them at Sam. At his mate. Who actually seemed to think that that beast which had nearly killed him, had come to his rescue. 

THAT was ridiculous.   
Then there was a pair of hazel-green eyes blinking at him from behind long strands of dark hair. An hopeful expression carrying in them. 

“Say somethin'.”, the omega repeated. 

“Your child? Really? You're talkin about that … that monster?” There it was. Now it was out, the pressure in his chest released. “Are you fuckin' kidding me?”

“Dean. - It … It didn't hurt me.” Of course Sam had to try and defend the thing. It was a part of his. It was his.

“You're imagining things, Sam.”, Dean said pluntly. Coldly. His eypression hard and unreadable. “It was luck. That's all it may was. - Me wakin' up when I did and …”

“No, Dean. It wasn't like that. If it would've wanted it'd killed you. It would have. But it didn't. It didn't kill you. And it didn't kill me. It was protecting me. It was protecting us. - I didn't see it all. All I know is, that he killed the demon. That he killed the other one too. It didn't hurt me because it didn't want to.” Sam threw the covers back and rolled out of bed without spilling the mug of coffee in his hand. 

“Sam. - That can't be. Listen. Just listen to me.” Rather annoyed and a bit pissed he reached for Sam to hold him back, to get him to sit back down. 

But the omega wiggled out under Dean's hold who had him gripped tight on his forearm. “No. You're not listening. - It's not evil. It's not.”

“How could you know? It could be some game. Demons are liars. They are traitors. They are messy bastards. They're playing mindgames. That's what they do!”, Dean was close to yelling now. “Dammit, Sam.”, he hissed through gritted teeth. 

“You don't know what you're sayin'.”, Sam murmured, putting the mug on the table a bit more forcefully than he had intended to. 

“Yes, I do. I've been hunting them. I've been interrogating them. I know what they say and do to get into your head. - So they do with you. They want you to let your guard down. To make you bond with it. And when you're trusting it enough, then it's going to kill you. Because that's what they do. What all of them do.” Dean was furious. Why would Sam not understand? It was that simple. It's always been that simple. 

“No.”, Sam brreathed, his head bowed and his eyes shut. “It's not. - It can't be. He's not like them.”

“That's wishful thinking, Sam! That's what it is. And nothin' else!” He was yelling now. Yelling at Sam because he wouldn't understand. He didn't want to understand. “You gotta know that.”, he added while he watched Sam's heaving shoulders, his flaring nostrils. “You're not thinking clear. You're entiteling that THING as your child, dammit. It's a parasite. Nothing else. It doesn't look even human!”

Sam's eyes shot open, a dangerous glint in his bright eyes as his gaze snapped towards Dean. “I don't care, Dean. I don't give a damn about what you're thinking. It saved you. It saved me. It CAME. You didn't see it, you weren't there. It fought.”

Dean huffed out a breath and shook his head in disbelieve. It took him everything to not just let the bubbling anger boil over. “You're putting that THING above your mate? That's what you want? Your so-called CHILD? That THING that nearly killed you? You're putting that creature before the guy who saved your sorry ass back in the woods? The man who stayed by your side, who offered you comfort and safety? The alpha who came for you in columbus and took you back to the Salvage so you wouldn't starve because you weren't able to go into a supermarket and get food? You sure that's what you really wanna do?” Dean jumped up from the bed, his face turning a dark shade of angry red. He blew out a raged breath, his vocal cords itching with all kinds of real bad things he could say to the omega. And he did everything to keep those things inside his mind and mouth before he'd make things worse. 

Because a tiny part of him understood. That tiny part remembered what the doctor at the hospital had said to him. That Sam may felt different about the parasite. That he didn't see it as the threat it was. 

“I don't put anyone first.”, Sam murmured calmly and hurt. Was that how Dean was really thinking? That he owed him for coming for him? That he owed him for saving a sorry omega's butt? Was Dean sorry that he got stuck with an omega that way? 

He had hated them – Sam knew. He had hated him too in the beginning. At least until their bond was manifesting. Maybe Dean didn't want it that way. Maybe he felt as if he needed to be mating with Sam … 

Dean huffed out a breath. Somehow “not putting anyone first” cut deep into his chest and pierced his heart. Because it sounded as if Sam didn't care as much about him as he was supposed to do as a mate. 

“We aren't mated yet, Sam. - So … you choose your CHILD before me? Go. Because I won't put up with that. I won't take you back to the Salvage with me and bring everyone else in danger because of your delusional hopes that that thing's good. Because it ain't.” The alpha's voice was calm and cool. His eyes cold and dead, no hint of emotions remained. “It'll never be.”

There was a beat of silence. 

Another one. 

Dean kept staring holes into Sam's head. 

Sam kept his gaze down, swallowing back a sob and holding back tears. It sounded so easy, didn't it? He wasn't supposed to give up on Orpheus as long as there was a chance that he was good, wasn't he? Sure, maybe Dean could also be right in some ways. But he hadn't any sort of proof for that. Though he hadn't any sort of proof for what he was thinking either. 

When in doubt, for the accused … 

“That's it? I've to choose? You or … Orthos's child? You don't even WANT to try and find out if he's evil or not? You don't give it a chance to proof that it's not?” Sam didn't turn around. He couldn't face Dean right now. If he would, and if he'd see that hard expression on his face and eyes, the disgust and hate – he wouldn't be able to stand that. He possibly couldn't. Because this … the anger and rage, the unbelievable hate which radiated from the alpha … it was barely bearable for Sam. 

For his mate. 

“Yes. That's it. - Me … or IT.” Dean's voice didn't break. Didn't shudder. He was cool about this. At least to the outside world. “I won't discuss this anymore. It's either me or it. Your choice. I hope you can live with the outcome ...” … if you're deciding against me, was what had been left unsaid. 

Sure Dean knew that Sam hung on him, that he loved him. He knew that and he didn't shy away of using it gainst the omega. Besides, omegas were used to feel the bonds to their mates even more intensive than alphas. - Or at least that was what people said. 

Sam was different. He was carrying his heart on the outside. He didn't have those thick unbreakable walls built up like Dean. He was so not like the alpha. 

The younger man swallowed thickly. His eyes started to water as he repeated Dean's words in his mind. The hunter was pushing a part of him away. He was denying Sam a chance to figure out if that kid – dog, lion, kat, whatever it was – was evil. He wouldn't give it a chance. He'd rather shoot it. Sam knew. 

What hurt even more was, that Dean wouldn't listen to him, didn't listen to what he was saying and trying to explain. He wouldn't give Sam a chance to proof what he was thinking about Orpheus. 

Sam also knew that Dean was playing unfair. He knew that Dean knew that he had nowhere else to go since he'd burned the storage down. That he had no money and no vehicle to get away from here. 

They both knew that Sam had nothing but the things he carried right now. 

But he wouldn't let that hinder him on showing Dean that he was right. That there was a chance that Orpheus wasn't evil. He wouldn't let Dean pressure him because he wasn't agreeing on this. There was still a spark of pride left somewhere inside of him.

“I don't want to choose.”, Sam mumbled wettly.   
“Me or it, Sam. - That's how it is.” Dean stayed calm and cool.   
“I can't leave it out there. I can't … not without knowing for sure, Dean.”, Sam tried to interfere, show him that he was ready to negotiate about this. 

But the ex hunter definitely wasn't. “Then go.”, he said breathlessly and cast his look aside. “Go.”, he repeated as if the first time it hadn't hurt any less. Hell, he didn't even know why he said it. Maybe because out of hurt, or because Sam wouldn't obey or take Dean's word as a fact. He couldn't tell. 

He only knew, that right at the moment that his words were out, he whised he hadn't said them.   
Dean didn't dare to look up, afraid of the shocked expression he would read all over Sam's face. Afraid that he would see the hurt and despair which rolled in thick waves from his mate. Ex-Mate actually. 

If they were breaking this bond … if it was even possible to break it anymore … Dean had heard about mates who were divorced. He had also heard that it would hurt like hell. And that it'd get better the longer they'd stay apart. 

But that wasn't what Dean wanted.   
He didn't want to break up with Sam.   
He didn't want to rip their bond apart.   
What he wanted was Sam to agree. Because he was the one who knew about those bastards better than anyone else. He was practically the master of demon-hunting. At least he had been … 

Sam didn't say another word. Instead he sucked in a shuddering breath as a sob choked it off. 

“You know what?”, Dean pushed away from where he was leaning against the end of the bed with his calves. He needed to cool down. Needed to get his shit together, before he'd say something else. 

“I can't stand you right now.” Those words ripped through Sam's chest like sharp claws.   
As the alpha brushed past Sam, bumping into his shoulder and side, snatched his jacket from the chair and the keys from the table and was out of the door before Sam could even process what was happening. 

As Sam stood there, holding onto the back of one of the chairs to anchor himself, he fought to catch a deep calming breath. For long minutes he didn't know where this had come from. Why this had escalated to fast. He had no clue how he could possibly make this up to Dean. Because – to be honest – he couldn't. That was the way he thought. He couldn't just KILL that creature. Not as long as there was no proof for Orthos's child being evil. And he wasn't sure if he could do that even if it was. 

What actually didn't matter anymore anyway. Dean had sent him away. He had left. And he sure as hell'd come back to pick up his things.   
Sam chocked out a sob. He ahd to get his shit together. He had to think straight.   
Dean was breaking up with him.   
That was nothing he was supposed to think about right now.   
Dean didn't want him – because he hadn't the same persuasion. 

The hate and anger … 

The omega swallowed a sob and closed his eyes for a moment.   
Dean'd come back. He'd come to pick his things up and leave Sam behind. That was what he was going to do. 

Sam wouldn't survive that. He wouldn't survive the expression on his mate's face. He wouldn't be able to bear feeling Dean that close to him. He couldn't look him in the eyes. Couldn't possibly stand his scent or the fact that his mate was rejecting him. 

He couldn't. 

There was only one way to avoid coming into that situation and having to face Dean again. Because Dean had sounded determined. And utterly confident of what he had been saying.   
Dean meant what he had said. There was no doubt. 

At least for Sam. 

So he gave himself another couple of calming breaths before he dared to open his red-rimmed eyes again. It actually hurt about even thinking about leaving …   
But he had to … he knew. Dean had said it himself. If Orpheus was one of the bad … creatures … Sam'd get him and Bobby and the others in danger. He'd get them killed. 

That's why he had been taking suppressants.   
That's why he had been staying alone.   
Because he knew he'd mess every kind of relationship up. This way or another he'd do. And now he understood why his former self had wanted to forget, to start something new. The Sam from back in the day had wanted to relearn to trust others, to find confidence in his emotions without being disappointed. 

And he didn't want to get them killed. - Not because he based his trust into that creature on a mountain of feelings. So he wouldn't be able to ask Bobby if he'd be allowed to stay there for a couple of days either. - Not even until he'd get something on his own. 

Besides, Dean'd be there … and then again … if Dean'd tell Bobby about this … about what Sam had told him, what he thought and felt, then the old hunter would kick him out too. Not to mention John Winchester, who was still there too. 

The eldest Winchester only waiting for Sam to fail. For Dean to realize that it was a mistake to take Sam in. To trust him. To even think about keeping him. Even when fate had planned for the both of them to stay together, to be mates, that didn't mean that they had to follow its course. It didn't mean anything. 

If the both of them hadn't have sex so far, breaking their bond wasn't that difficult. Okay, it wasn't possible to really break it, there'd always be some sort of connection between the both of them, but it was the closest to breaking up they'd get to do.   
And now here they were. 

John Winchester had been right, hadn't he? 

So yes. Maybe leaving the one person he loved most would save this person's life … 

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Dean was so pissed. He hadn't even had words for it. 

How could that omega DARE to … to act that way. To disagree with him. His mate. His alpha. Then again, weeren't omega's supposed to be more … patient. More obedient? Who the hell had put this kind of myths into the world? Sam didn't obey. He was stuborn. He didn't listen to what Dean was saying. NOPE. 

Okay, omegas did have their own mind, like any other person on this world. Of course. But they were supposed to be different. They were supposed to be the clever ones, wheren't they?

Not so Sam. Of course not. Because he wasn't like the others. He HAD to be different. Right? He had to have his own mind and put himself on the creatures side. Because YES, in toubt for the accused. 

What bullshit, wasn't it? 

Dean pushed the accelerator down, in hope to find a damn roadhouse or another kind of bar, where he could get drunk – or properly laid. Because all he needed was a good fuck. All those months putting that much energy and encouragement into another person … just so Sam'd obey? Wouldn't even LISTEN to what he was telling him? 

Maybe the scen tof someone else on him would set Sam's head straight again. Maybe showing him that he could have anyone else would make the omega more pliant. More understanding.

Then again.   
He didn't want anyone else. He wanted Sam. And he wanted Sam to understand how dangerous this was. How he could possibly bring himself into immediate danger by trying and trusting that devil's spawn. 

(Not that this would make any sense at all. - But that's just how Winchesters were ticking. Because they could be real dickheads and pricks and total assholes at times.)

He gripped the steering wheel tighter, his eyebrows pulled together. 

It took him an hour before there showed up some biker-bar at the side of the road. Most of his anger was gone by then anyway, and he was rather over-thinking what he had spat at Sam. Calling his ass sorry, and practically telling him that he was supposed to be thankful. To fall to his knees and kiss Dean's boots for saving him. For owing him. 

Sure those things were said because he had been angry. What bothered him ore was, that he had meant it back then.

And then telling Sam that he should go, despite the fact that Dean knew that Sam had nowhere to go. That he had no choice but to stay. Leaving him behind and thinking that Dean was really breaking up with him … 

Oh god, he was such an ass at times, wasn't he? He had pressured Sam into agreeing with him. That was something he should never do nor try with someone he loved, was it?   
Instead of giving into that long-trained hate against all creatures and monsters, he might should consider that there was something true about what Sam had been telling him. 

Deep down he knew that. 

Deep down he knew that he had fucked up. That he'd may or may not had to fall on his knees before Sam and beg him to forgive him (not literally of course, because no Winchester was begging – ever). 

He had let himself being carried away … into a very bad direction.   
Dean janked the steering wheel around and reversed on the biker-bar's parking lot, getting Baby back on the opposite lane of the road. 

… to be continued


	33. The End Of Days

I am really sorry for the LOOOONG breaks in between updates. I'm real busy with school. 

 

Fields Of Jasmine  
Chapter 33 ~ The End of Days

It was Dean's end of days.  
It was his apocalypse.  
His absolute disaster.  
His breakdown.  
His fault.

When he returned to the motel, practically bursting into their room with an apology on his lips, the realization that Sam wasn't there anymore hit him hard. No, it didn't just hit him hard. It pulled the ground out from under his feet, made his heart stop.  
It shattered him to the very core of his soul.

When his oxygen-starved brain signaled his lungs to breathe, he finally remembered to inhale.

Dean stared helplessly at the duffel bags that were still on the table. He examined the room the way a hunter would.  
Sam had left everything behind. He'd taken nothing with him. Nothing, not even his duffel bag. Then again, why would he have taken it with him? Hadn't Dean told him that he was only a burden? Not in those exact words, but he had…

Dean couldn't tell why, but he knew that Sam was gone, really gone. He might have gone for a walk to settle his mind…  
He could have.  
But Sam hadn't.

The thought of Sam being out there, without anything useful to defend himself… Nothing but his fists, at least, and his mind…

What he had said to Sam had been too severe. He'd practically thrown him out, told him to leave. He had literally broken up with Sam.  
So Sam surely hadn't taken any weapons with him… not after Dean made it clear that he owned nothing.

No wonder Sam felt like leaving – like doing exactly what his mate had told him to do. He had given Sam an ultimatum, and Sam had done the only viable thing at the time: he had tried to negotiate.

But Dean hadn't listened. He realized that now, he hadn't listened, and now Sam was gone. He hadn't been ready to debate, hadn't wanted to debate at all.

Sam had tried to explain, to make him understand, and Dean had pushed him away. Practically told him that what he had felt, what he had seen, was only his imagination. That he didn't believe the omega, and most of all, didn't TRUST him enough to try to figure it out together.

Sam thought that Dean had broken up with him, and that he'd have to find out about Orthos's child on his own. Because his mate – ex-mate, Sam would assume – wouldn't want to ask questions before pulling the trigger. He hadn't even given Sam the chance to prove his theory.

Sam couldn't be far, though. There hadn't been any cars in the parking lot, and he didn't have money. There weren't a lot of cars passing by, either, so Sam had to be walking.  
The omega was a clever kid. He wouldn't hitchhike his way back to the salvage yard.

Then again, Dean had told him he was putting Bobby and the others in danger if he took him back to Singer's Salvage, which might mean that Sam wouldn't head back to Sioux Falls, either.  
Where would he go if there was no place left for him to hole up?

Dean had no clue...

~ '67 Chevrolet Impala ~

Sam didn't know either.

He was wandering along a dirt road, had been for quite some time now. He had no clue where to go. He could go back to Harry, ask him for help. Then again, the short guy had helped him enough already – a lot more, actually, than he was supposed to.

At the moment it was still warm enough that he wasn't freezing. It was a nice April afternoon, in fact… if it weren't for the knowledge that it'd get cool soon again, and that the nights were still quite chilly.

His thoughts drifted back to Dean and what he had said, bringing fresh tears to his sore eyes. He debated with himself over going back to the motel and trying to talk to Dean again.

Sam didn't know how much time had passed, how long he'd been wandering around. He sighed and rubbed his tired face, wincing as the movement of his left arm strained the bruised muscles in his back. Hell, he hadn't known that they were even connected somehow.

"Stupid bitch," he murmured to himself. "Ruinin' everything. Ruining the one thing." He held his head down, watching the tips of his boots as they brushed long green grass aside. "Screwin' everything up."

This wasn't what Sam had wanted to happen. Maybe he should've shut up about it. Shouldn't have brought it up, or at least have waited to tell him.

Any-who. It was too late now to change that. The cat was out of the bag.  
Sam wouldn't be able to hurt the thing, he knew he wouldn't. And he sure couldn't stand there and watch Dean killing it. He simply couldn't.

As much as it tore his heart, deep in his soul he knew he couldn't. Even though his child wasn't human at all (yes, he knew it was a parasite, that it'd have killed him if it hadn't been for Dean and Bobby and Jim and the others), he wouldn't be able to kill it or watch it being killed.

Because – somehow – it was still his child.

~ '67 Chevrolet Impala ~

Dean was furious.  
Furious at Sam for really taking off, and furious at himself for letting it go this far. For leaving, and most of all for leaving Sam behind and accusing him of daydreaming while he needed support.

The alpha had packed their things together and thrown them into the backseat of his baby. And just when he'd been about to start his engine, the old creepy lady had stood in front of the hood of his car and stared at him with pitch-black eyes.

~ '67 Chevrolet Impala ~

Sam held his left side with his right hand as he claimed another couple of yards before he stopped, breathing heavily, his legs hurting.

Taking the dirt road had been a good idea – at least back then. Now that he had to be about two to three hours away from the motel, it should've been safe to get back on the highway. Maybe someone would stop and take him with them.  
Then again... he wasn't quite sure whether that'd be such a good idea. Demons could be everywhere. 

And what felt kind of a bit worse at the moment were those cramps in his lower abdomen. Cramps he knew which would improve in a day or two, the signs of his first heat after having the parasite removed.

There truly wasn't better timing, right?

Sam actually didn't care how, the main thing was him getting into some sort of town and finding a halfway decent place to spend the night. He truly hadn't thought this one through. He hadn't counted on going into heat, and he sure as hell hadn't thought this morning that his day would end this way.

First things first.

As far as he was concerned, no one would turn an omega down if he asked for a room for the night, even when he didn't have money. Sam was sure that whatever kind of help he'd need, he'd get it – assuming someone came along and let him jump on for a ride.

Then again... all of that was easier said than done.

Omegas might be praised and rare, but he was different.

Despite remembering now who he'd been before, he felt troubled at the thought of talking to strangers, letting alone asking one for help. Stopping a car was one thing, but getting into it was in a completely other league.

~ '67 Chevrolet Impala ~

Dean cursed silently as he switched on the wipers. It had been raining for half an hour now, and it was starting to get dark – not good conditions at all for taking an extended walk.

What made the dark pit in his stomach grow immensely was thinking about Sam being out there on his own, weakened. And no, he wasn't underestimating the omega. But he also knew not to overestimate the man's physical condition, either.

He had moved stiffly, and had winced. His voice had sounded rough, as if the swelling wasn't completely gone yet, and most of all... the omega wasn't back in shape yet. He wasn't used to moving around that much. So yes, Dean dared to say that Sam was in no condition to be out there.

It wasn't only because he was his freaking omega, and because he had yelled at him and hurt him. A punch in the face would've been more humane.

There weren't a lot of dirt roads Sam could've taken, unless he cut cross-country. Dean dearly hoped he hadn't, because then he would be wasting time here. Precious time.

Panic dug its claws into the ex-hunter's chest at the thought of what could have happened to his omega. The possibility that he could've hitchhiked. That he could be god-knows-where already without Dean knowing.

~ '67 Chevrolet Impala ~

Sam tugged the collar of his leather jacket up so that the back of his neck wasn't as exposed to the cool wind and heavy raindrops. Just his luck, wasn't it?

The water was already soaking his hair and dripping from his bangs, which curled into themselves. It was soaking the collar of his shirt beneath the jacket. His boots definitely weren't waterproof, either. His feet were making squelching noises with every step he took, and he was slowing down.

Sam couldn't believe his luck right now. There was no damn car coming along. No house. Hell, not even a sign that someone ever came along here besides wild animals.

~ '67 Chevrolet Impala ~

At first, Dean couldn't believe what the headlights of his car caught about a hundred yards ahead. There was something moving along the side of the road, and it looked damn well human to him.

Of course, now that it was nearly completely dark, it could also be his imagination. Wishful thinking. The ex-hunter flinched inwardly at his words. He had accused Sam of acting that way, of wishing for something that existed only in his imagination. Of daring to believe in the possibility that not everything that was born from something evil had to be evil.

Dean pushed the accelerator down, though not too much, afraid that he could land in the ditch. His hopes of finding Sam would be destroyed then, since there sure as hell wouldn't be anyone out here to pull his car back on the road… not before dawn at least, anyway. He hadn't seen another car for the past hour or two, since he had decided to search the highway going east.

The figure at the side of the road grew taller, the closer he came. Its silhouette grew more and more defined, the closer he got. And it definitely was human.

Dean Winchester couldn't believe what he was seeing. When only a couple of yards remained between the hood of his baby and the person wandering the road at that time of – and weather of – the day, he realized who it was.

"Sam," he murmured. His eyes widened, the growing fatigue gone all of a sudden, a sickening anticipation taking its place. Of course it was Sam. He'd recognize that jacket anywhere. He'd recognize the way Sam walked, even when – right now – he looked a bit stiff.

That, and the slight pull he felt inside his chest that tugged him towards the wanderer, were proof enough to him that this had to be HIS.

The ex-hunter rolled the passenger's side window down as he pulled his foot from the accelerator and let his baby roll up beside the walking man. He leaned over, just enough so that he could catch a glimpse of the omega's face and have a sideways glance at the road every few seconds.

"Get in, Sam," he said, a bit harder and not very emphatically at all. He wanted to sound soft and kind of loving, but the part of him that was still pissed got in the way of it.

The omega – HIS omega – ignored him and kept on walking.

As much as Sam wanted to look at Dean, as much as he wanted to get in that damn car and be beside his mate again, he couldn't. There was a part of him called pride, and that part wouldn't just let himself be commanded around when things were unclear between the both of them.

"Sam. Get in the damn car. You're catchin' pneumonia out there." Dean had figured that even if he'd find Sam, convincing him to come with him or even talk to him wouldn't be that easy. He cleared his throat, quickly realizing that there was no way Sam would follow his plea to get into the car while he was using his commanding voice.

This didn't work that way. Nope.

Sam didn't work that way.

The ex-hunter shifted the gearstick into park and ripped the keys from the ignition. Dean literally jumped out of the car and hurried around to block Sam's way before he could get past the Impala's hood. Cold rain hit his face and hair, making him shudder. Within seconds, he was soaked from the water falling from above.

"Sammy. Wait." Dean put both hands in the air, showing his open palms to the omega. "Sam."

The younger man stopped. He did nothing, just stared blankly at Dean. A weirdly familiar scent lingered in the air. It was Sam's, definitely, though somehow different. A bit warmer and sweeter than usual, with a touch of something that made the hairs of the back of Dean's neck stand up.

"I'm sorry." He had no clue what else to say. At least not right now. It was wet. It was cold. And he fucking hated the rain when it was cold. "Sam. I'm sorry... I didn't mean what I said earlier."

Sam eyed him, his face blank and unreadable. For the first time, the alpha couldn't feel a thing coming from his mate. Literally nothing.

"You meant it. And you were right. Your father was right." Sam's voice somehow didn't fit. It was calm and soft, and so not suitable for the emotionless way he was looking at Dean. "I'm getting you all in danger. I'm threatening you and Bobby and the others simply by being there. I don't want that. I don't want to have any more blood on my hands than I already have."

Sam pulled back when the alpha tried to reach for him.

"Sam. That's not what I meant. Okay, maybe it was what I meant, but it's not true and you know that. We both know that, right? I was an idiot to say those things. Bobby's salvage is a sanctuary. Nothing evil comes in, nothing. You wouldn't get anyone into danger." Dean sighed as Sam pulled away from his touch once more. "I was talking bullshit. I was angry. I didn't understand, okay? I don't understand now, either, why you'd want to believe that that... THING... could possibly not be one of those evil bastards. I can't. And that's the truth. I'm not lying to you here. I grew up with the belief that everything born from something evil is evil, period. There ain't no gray, just black and white."

Sam continued to stare at him, though his eyes were moving now, too. Drifting towards Dean's lips every now and then while he listened.

"I was stupid enough to think that you'd agree with me if you'd realize you had nowhere to go," he admitted finally. "If you were dependent on me. I was wrong. I don't want it to be that way." Dean's chest rose and fell. "Please, Sammy. Let's talk this out. Let's get in the car and find somewhere dry to discuss this."

"You broke up with me. That's what you did. And you are right. You were right," Sam said, his voice shaky, lips quivering from the cold. "It's not safe for you guys. They came after me and they're gonna come after me again. They will, and then you all are going to die. I don't want anyone to get hurt because of me."

Dean's eyes narrowed. He opened his mouth and closed it again, weighing what he was going to say and deciding against it.

"Would you let me decide whether I want to risk something for you or not? Would you let us choose, instead of making decisions for us? 'Cause the way I see it... I'm damn cool with that. And dammit, Sam, forget what I said, okay? I was angry."

"You still are," the omega remarked.  
"Hell yes, I am. But not for the reasons you think I am, okay? I'm angry 'cause you left."

"You sent me away."  
"But I didn't mean it."

"You did back then."  
"Well, yeah, maybe. But after I had time to think about it, I decided I was an ass, okay?" No human ever saw Dean Winchester making puppy dog eyes. EVER.

Sam tilted his head to the left side.

"Sam. Please." Yes, Dean Winchester was begging. He'd fall onto his knees right there if it meant that Sam'd get in the car with him. He wouldn't shy away from anything right now that was even mildly verging on a chick-flick moment. "Let's talk this out before either of us makes the wrong decision."

The omega gave him a short nod. He felt like telling Dean no, telling him to get in the car and drive away, that he'd be good on his own. But he didn't. He couldn't. Because deep down, it was Dean he wanted – even when everything seemed complicated at the moment. He himself seemed complicated. His thoughts, his emotions. Everything.

Heavy desperation lingered in the alpha's scent. That and fear, and angst, and want. Dean took a step towards his baby and opened the passenger's door

"I'll mess up your car," Sam spoke up.  
"The Impala's not gonna catch a cold, Sammy," the hunter said softly, the hint of a smile on his lips.

Sam ducked his head and slid into the passenger's seat without responding. He didn't look up when Dean hurried around the car and climbed back behind the wheel.

The tension in the ex-hunter's shoulders began to slowly ease away as soon as the engine roared to life and the wipers squeaked over the windshield. For the first time, Dean felt the cool rain water trickling down his neck and soaking the shirt beneath his jacket. He shuddered.

The alpha glanced over at Sam, snatching a glimpse of the shivering giant beside him. He had to have been soaking wet down to the underwear for quite some time. Dean glanced into the backseat for a second, but it was too dark to see if there was anything there Sam could wrap himself up in.

After listening to Sam's chattering teeth for ten miles or so, the alpha spoke up. "Check the backseat. I bet there's a blanket."  
"Nah. I'm good," Sam murmured, his voice shaking. He curled tighter into himself and continued to stare out of the window.

"Bullshit." Dean stole a glance at his mate. Sam was still shivering. Even in the darkness, he could see the younger man's frame shake. "You're still freezing." He turned the heat up to maximum.

He wanted to ask him again what he'd been thinking to just leave like he had. But he already knew what the answers could be: Either there'd be none, or Sam'd tell him that Dean told him to go. And Dean Winchester didn't want to hear either of them.

"'m not." Sam knew very well that he sounded a bit like a petulant child right now, but he actually didn't care. He WAS freezing. But he also felt as if he was running hot on the inside.

First signs of a fever.

Those were the same signs for the "sickness" he used to get back at Savanger's. Of course, Sam knew now that it hadn't been a sickness at all. Now he knew that it meant that he'd go into heat very soon. Something he couldn't use right now at all.

"Yes, you are. The next damn motel we spot, we're stoppin' for the night," Dean grumbled. "My head's killin' me," he added, so very softly that it was barely audible, although still loud enough for Sam to hear.

That caught his attention enough to gaze at Dean out of the corner of his eyes, trying to gauge how bad off Dean was. The alpha didn't look comfortable from what he could see. There were deep creases at the corners of his right eye and his forehead was wrinkled.

"Stop starin', Sammy," he said half-jokingly, startling the omega.

"I wasn't staring... I was trying to figure out how badly off you really are," he murmured, training his eyes back out at the landscape.

~ '67 Chevrolet Impala ~

The rest of the drive went by in complete silence between the two, only interrupted by the sound of the rain splattering against the windshield and the wind howling over the empty land. Half an hour later, they found a decent-looking motel at the outskirts of some small town called Hopkins, northeast of Northfolk.

Now that they were at the motel and already settled in their room, the silence seemed even worse. And above that – Dean sniffed… every now and then he could smell something weird. He even gazed around the room while he sat at the table, nursing a tumbler with amber-brown liquid in it and devouring his bacon-cheeseburger while Sam was in the bathroom taking a hot shower.

The ex-hunter shook it off. He couldn't tell what that scent could possibly mean. Maybe it was because Sam was still pissed, or it meant that Sam was about to get sick... He'd smelled it earlier in his car. A couple of miles after picking his omega up, the scent had thickened and left a lingering stench on Dean's clothes.

The alpha sighed and shook his head. There was no time to think about freaking scents. He had much bigger problems at hand. For example: Exactly how was he supposed to clear things up with Sam.

Seeing and feeling the omega's resistance was something completely new for him. Then again, they hadn't discussed anything of similar importance like that... THING, aka Sam's kid... before.

And Dean knew – just knew – that it had nothing to do with him, and that it didn't mean that Sam was putting that creature before him. He knew that. He had known it back then, too. He just hadn't wanted to discuss it.

And instead of telling Sam that, that it wasn't a good time to talk about that topic since his head was still sore and his muscles ached, the omega had carried on, and had started to explain himself and... it just had been too much.

... to be continued


	34. I've no clue how the title goes 'cause I can't remember.

Fields Of Jasmine  
Chapter 34 ~ I've no clue how the title goes 'cause I can't remember.

Dean shoved the second Styrofoam box across the table over to where he hoped Sam would sit down when he was done with his shower. He took a huge bite from his own burger, humming at the taste of melted cheese and salty bacon.

When he heard the water being turned off, Dean's ears perked up and he straightened up slightly. He heard the rustle of towels, and Sam brushing his teeth. The rustle of clothes followed, and a couple of sneezes and coughs, before the door handle got pushed down and the lock on the door snapped open.

The alpha did everything possible not to look in Sam's direction. Avoiding the younger man's gaze was the best he could do at the moment, he figured. He was just glad that Sam had gotten into the car and decided to come with him after he had screwed up again.

He knew his temper. He also knew that he said mean stuff when he got angry. He knew that. And he still couldn't for the love of it manage to shut the fuck up before something idiotic came out of his lips.

Any-who. It was a win that the omega was even there with him.

The alpha listened to Sam's bare feet shuffling over the carpet towards the single queen furthest from the door. Dean's belongings lay sprawled out on the one closest to the door.

Dean had decided to get separate beds because of their earlier fight. He'd thought about getting separate rooms, but that might have been too much. After all, he had to assume that demons were after them… and maybe even one of those THINGS.

~ '67 Chevrolet Impala ~

Azazel gritted his teeth and growled at the huge black creature before him. His yellow eyes flickered up at the vessel that Gluttony was currently wearing. White hot rage burned within the demon's pupils.

"What HAPPENED?!" he yelled angrily. "Where is my daughter?"

The sin didn't flinch, nor did it seem at all impressed by Azazel's fury. It merely blinked at the demon as if it were bored.

"The place was already burned to the ground when I got there." Gluttony sounded rather annoyed. "The owner didn't know anything, only that the omega had been there to get stuff. He didn't see him leave, hadn't talked to him again after he'd gotten there."

"Where's he now?"

"He's dead, of course." Like it was the most stupid question in the world.

"You sure he told you the truth? He didn't see what happened?" Azazel bit his lower lip, his teeth glowing yellow in the faint light.

"I made sure he'd tell me everything he knew," Gluttony answered calmly. After another moment, he straightened up. "And I would dearly appreciate it if you would not treat me like one of your underlings, sir. Because I am not one. Neither of us are. Orthos's children in the very least. I truly appreciate your efforts to break the seals and free our king, but you should not forget that you are also an underling yourself."

Azazel glared at the sin. "Don't forget who brought you here – who freed you from the pit," he spat back at the plump tall man. "You owe me." It had been Azazel who had come up with the ritual, Azazel who had figured out how to get their leader back topside.

"I owe Lucifer, not you, Azazel." Gluttony took a step towards the yellow-eyed demon. "Don't forget your place here. As soon as the seals are broken – as soon as you get your rebel back under control – we will all bow before the same fallen one." He made it clear that Azazel was the boss for now, but not for any longer than absolutely necessary.

Azazel knew that, too. He was older than many of his kind. He had seen so much… and yet, not enough.

"The question is, to whom should you be bowing?" There was a self-conscious smile on Azazel's lips and in his eyes.

Gluttony tilted his head to the side. His forehead creased, and in his gaze lingered a hint of confusion and realization at the same time.

"The only reason you are still alive is that you bound us." Gluttony's eyes gleamed with anger and rage as he pressed the words out between gritted teeth. "None of my kind would ever bow before the likes of you." Beside his feet, Orthos's child licked its chops and blinked its white eyes at the demon.

"I want you and Famine to keep going. I will send my men out to get the rebel back home." Azazel walked towards the open fire of the fireplace and pursed his lips as he stared into the flames. "We don't need it anymore, anyway. It's of no use like that." His eyes traveled back to Gluttony, coming to a rest at the beast next to him.

The sin stared at the demon, even more curious now. "The ritual can't be finished without it."

"Yes, it can, and it will. The only thing we need to get it done is Orpheus's blood." A mischievous grin spread across the yellow-eyed demon's face. "And the blood of the others, as well as–" Azazel sighed and moved his hand behind his back "–YOURS." He drew the last word out in a long hiss as he yanked a knife from the sheath at his back and sunk it into Gluttony's chest.

The sin gleamed up, dark red, as its dark soul evaporated and vanished.

~ '67 Chevrolet Impala ~

Sam dug through his duffel, unsure of what he was even looking for until his fingers touched the bottle of pain pills. A sigh of relief fell from his lips; they'd ease his discomfort a bit.

There'd be no going on a hunt like this. No wonder he'd taken suppressants before. A part of him wished he still had them right now, that he'd never stopped taking them. He should've never let those doctors erase his memory.

Or he should – at least – have left himself a note about that.

Anyway, he was here now. With Dean.

Dean, who was watching him.

Yeah, Sam knew. He could feel the hunter's gaze travel up and down his long frame, though not in his usual sensual way – more of a curious one.

Sam uncapped the bottle and shook two pills out. He popped them into his mouth and swallowed them dry, then put the bottle back into his duffel. Without wasting a further thought on what he should or should not have done, he turned around and sat at the table opposite his mate.

The alpha kept watching Sam. Sam kept his gaze down and studied the box. Dean reached out and shoved it further towards Sam, then pulled his hand back.

Sam reached for the box. As if on instinct, Dean's hand covered Sam's atop the box.

Their eyes met briefly, and Sam offered his alpha a small smile.

Dean smiled back, his hand lingering on top of the omega's. Then the alpha pulled it back and picked up his burger again. Sam's fingers curled around the lid slowly and he opened it, revealing a chicken sandwich with fries and two small bags of ketchup.

"I haven't changed my mind," Sam murmured, sighing heavily.

"Not now, Sammy," Dean said softly. He was exhausted and his head was pounding like a stampede was thundering through it. He leaned back and closed his eyes for a brief moment. "We'll talk about that when both of us are better."

Sam nodded in understanding. His alpha was right. It'd be wiser to talk once both of them felt better again. Bringing Orpheus and the rest up now would probably end in the exact same dilemma as before.

"Eat. You must be starvin'," Dean waved towards the box. "I'll call Bobby, let him know that we'll be at the Salvage earlier than expected."

"I'm not going back." Sam spoke in the same calm voice as before.

Dean cocked an eyebrow at the younger man. "What?"

"I can't… They wouldn't understand," Sam answered straightaway. "And I can't be there when they kill it. I can't let that happen. I can't kill someone if I don't know if he's truly guilty."

Dean pursed his lips. "No one is going to kill anyone without proof. That much I can promise you."

Sam looked up at him in surprise. "Why? Why now? You told me he was a monster before, that he was evil, that there was no way he could be possibly good."

"Well, that was before. I've been thinking about what you've said." The alpha sighed again and rubbed his face with both hands. Apparently they were talking about this now after all. "You're good to go back to Bobby's. Trust me. He'll understand. Ellen'll understand." 'Cause they aren't as close-minded as I am. "When you say you think the... Orpheus's... isn't a monster... well, you know what I mean... they'll listen." Just not me...

The omega didn't believe him. He couldn't, judging by how Dean had reacted when he told him what he thought...

"Sam," Dean sighed, "I know what you're thinkin' and it ain't true."

Sam squeezed the ketchup out of the bags and drew one of the fries through the small pool of red before sticking the cold, salty potato stick in his mouth. "Let's just... eat and, and go to sleep, okay?" He picked up another fry.

With a sigh, Dean reached for his burger and took a bite. His mate was still picking at his fries by the time he was done.

Dean took a Vicodin to dull the ache in his leg and the one in his head.

Sam didn't finish his meal, giving up after another three fries and a bite from his burger. He had no appetite. The pain meds were dulling the effects of his fast-approaching heat and the lingering pain in his back, that was all.

That, and the fact that he'd have to justify his opinion on the creature he had borne.

While Dean took a shower, Sam dumped his duffel beside the bed and crawled under the covers, tugging them tightly around his shoulders as he let his eyes close. Pulled under by the pills and exhaustion, he didn't stay awake long enough to sense Dean emerging from the bathroom with a shocked and knowing expression on his face.

The bathroom had been filled with the scent of shampoo and sweet jasmine – sweeter than Dean had ever sensed it. Sweeter than he could remember Sam ever smelling. But it wasn't just jasmine he was smelling.

It was more.

Layered underneath it, something else was hidden, making his omega's scent thicker and heavier. It didn't bother him. It was just that... he couldn't tell what was different about it.

Well, at least until it hit him with a sledge-hammer.

~ '67 Chevrolet Impala ~

Sometime in the middle of the night, Sam awoke. The room was silent and dark, and the omega was cold, so cold, despite the warmth in his inner core.

He knew it couldn't be that cold in the room, since it had been pretty warm already. But hell, the room felt like it was minus degrees. That wasn't possible. But he remembered feeling this way in his past.

Heat. How he had started to hate that word.

An extraordinary violent shiver coursed through his tall frame as he pulled the covers further over his shoulders and neck. He pondered for a long minute whether he should try to sneak out of the room and get one of the blankets from the Impala's back seat.

Then again... Nope. It'd feel even colder out there.

Sam bit back a groan when a particular bad cramp tore at his insides, and squeezed his eyes shut.

"Scoot over." He heard a sleep-rough voice, and felt a gentle touch against his covered shoulder. Then there was a soft pat on his hip.

After an internal debate as to whether it was a wise decision to let the alpha into his bed after their fight, Sam did as he was told. He decided that he couldn't care less at the moment, so he gave Dean an extra couple of inches.

The omega felt the mattress dip down and a broad form came up alongside his back. "There you go," he heard Dean grumble sleepily. A strong arm curled around Sam's middle, the calloused hand feeling along his ribcage and waist to settle right over his belly button.

Dean's touch was warm and pleasant as the heat of his hand soaked into the omega's skin. "Try to relax," he mumbled as he started to draw gentle circles on Sam's stomach with his whole palm. "It'll help."

Muscles tense, Sam curled up into himself a bit and whimpered pitifully.

The alpha shushed him and kept on rubbing the omega's belly. It didn't take long before Sam started to relax into the ministrations and fell back to sleep with Dean stroking and caressing his tender skin.

At first, Dean hadn't known how to react. Should he call Sam on it or simply ignore the fact that his mate was going to find himself in heat by the morning? As much had to be said: Dean hadn't allowed himself to fall asleep properly. He'd kept an ear out for Sam's breathing and such, ready to come help if he needed something.

When the whimpering and choked-off groans had started, Dean had initially thought he'd wait until Sam called for him or tried to ease the pain. But when he realized that he might end up waiting until morning, that Sam might not tell him at all, the alpha decided to make the first move.

~ '67 Chevrolet Impala ~

The next morning came early for Dean, with the persistent ring of his phone blaring "Highway to Hell" at him. Sam woke up, too, but only under protest did he let the alpha out of his grasp to turn around and reach his phone.

"Dad?" Dean asked, squinting his left eye open. There weren't any clocks in the room, but judging by the soft rays of sun peeking through the dark-colored curtains, it had to be just shy of sunrise.

Dean's eyes flew open. "What?" He sat up straight in bed, his free hand coming to a rest on Sam's hip under the covers to keep him down in case he intended to get up, too. "You're fuckin' kiddin' me," he grumbled.

Of course, John Winchester was never kidding. He was damn serious about the seals that had to be broken to free Lucifer. He was also serious about the way this ritual had to go down. And he was even more serious about telling Dean to get his and Sam's asses back to the salvage yard as soon as possibly possible, because Orthos's children were supposed to kill their bearers to break the bond that kept the creatures' human side alive.

Dean hadn't told Bobby about Sam's assumptions about the parasite they'd cut out of him. He hadn't told his father, either, because they were too alike when it came to monsters.

"Sammy." Dean squeezed his mate's hip gently to gain his attention, even though the alpha'd had it the very moment John Winchester's name had fallen from his lips. "We need to get outta here."

"What? What happened?"

"Nothin' so far… and it's supposed to stay that way," Dean murmured.

"Nah, not you dad." The younger Winchester listened to his father for another couple of seconds. "We're as good as on the road. Be at the Salvage by noon." He snapped the phone shut.

"What's it?" Sam slurred and turned onto his back.

Dean caught Sam's gaze as he looked back at his mate. The young man was a bit pale, his cheeks tinted deep pink. His pupils were blown wide, his eyes dazed from the fever.

"They got news on the book. Figured out some stuff." Dean cleared his throat, deciding that it wasn't time to tell his omega all the details just yet. "Ain't safe here. Dad's worried that they'll come for you."

Sam watching him for a long moment, trying to digest what the alpha had told him.

"They already did." Of course the filter between his head and mouth wasn't working properly. He'd just woken up.

Dean sighed. "Yeah. And they'll try again."

"I know you don't want to hear it, but... Orpheus won't let that happen." Sam let his head fall back onto the pillows and closed his eyes briefly. "And you won't either," he added, realizing what he had just said. He didn't want to push Dean over the edge again.

Dean rubbed his face, registering that Sam had obviously tried to make up for what he'd said before it could upset Dean again.

"Damn right I won't." He patted his omega's thigh and rolled out of bed. "Let's get packed."

~ '67 Chevrolet Impala ~

They got packed in record time. Dean checked them out while Sam brought their belongings to the car. When the alpha came out of the office, he was already in the passenger's seat, curled up into himself with his overly warm forehead resting against the cool window.

"You good over there?" Dean spared a curious glance at Sam. The omega hummed and groaned and made another sound he couldn't quite place.

"We're gonna stop somewhere to grab breakfast. You need food and water."... loads of water. Fifty miles ahead they found a small diner where Dean got them club sandwiches, coffee to go and two bottles of ice tea.

Dean kept a watchful eye on his omega the whole drive. He'd never seen an omega in heat, nor had he ever spared a single thought about it. He'd only read about heats and what they might be like, and had decided back then that it served those bastards right. They didn't deserve anything better.

But now that it was Sam beside him suffering PMS (that's at least how he thought of it so far), Dean couldn't figure out for the hell of it why he'd considered it serving anyone right. It looked pretty uncomfortable and slightly painful. The way Sam shifted in the seat and sought the chill of the window didn't look cool at all.

Sam remained still, though; not a single sound came from him, which didn't make it any easier on Dean. He had no clue how to concentrate on the road and comfort Sam at the same time. Moreover, he didn't even know how to comfort Sam at the moment. He settled for trying to avoid potholes at least. That, and sudden stops or brutal curves.

When they pulled up in front of Bobby's house, Dean sent a brief "thank god" prayer up to the heavens. He called the grizzled man to let him know they had arrived, but that Sam wasn't feeling well, so they were heading to the cabin straightaway so Sam could lay down and rest.

Of course it was John Winchester who appeared at their doorway half an hour later to check on his son. Well, and the omega. But mostly he was seeing if Dean was okay. He sniffed the omega-heavy scent and looked around curiously.

"Coffee?" Dean asked, peeking into the bedroom. He'd left the door wide open so he could check on Sam any time he wasn't with him, even though the omega had told him he was good and didn't need anything.

John gave Dean a nod and stole a glance into the bedroom, too, before following his son into the kitchen. "Heat, huh?"

Dean cocked an eyebrow but didn't turn around. Instead, he busied himself with the coffeemaker. Of course his father knew, had scented it.

"He doing okay?"

"Ain't talkin' that much at the moment."...At least he let me help him into his sweats, he thought to himself.

"Thunder over paradise, boy?" It sounded mocking coming from John's mouth. Gleeful.

"None of your business," Dean grumbled and switched the machine on.

John's smirk vanished and he cleared his throat. "You know, son..."

"Save it, dad," Dean snapped as he got two mugs from the cupboard. "Ain't like you would've ever cared. Why start now?"

There was a beat of silence. "Cause I'm your father. And I–"

"You what, startin' to care all of a sudden? Cut the crap. You're way too late for that shit."

John cast his look down for a moment. "I know. I... Look, I never pretended to be father of the year, but this life–"

"What life?" Dean shot back. "You leaving me at Bobby's while going on dangerous hunts? Missing my birthday – well, wait, except my sixteenth. Or maybe that time I fell in love at fifteen, and you told me to suck it up 'cause we had to leave for another gig of yours? Me leavin' my date standing at the movies?"

He glared over his shoulder, staring daggers in his father's direction. "You weren't father of the year. You weren't a father at all. And I looked up to you dad, the entire time. I did what you told me, no matter what, no matter how stupid it was. But you know what? Maybe I've got the chance for a normal life."

"None of us leads a normal life."

"You know what I mean."

"Yes, son. I do. And I can't erase what I've done wrong. But I can try to make it up to you, can't I?"

"How? By disrespecting my omega? That ain't how it goes, 'cause I won't dump him, and I won't tolerate dumb questions about him. And I recommend you not be a dick when he's around. You don't get to know if there's thunder in paradise, either, 'cause if there was, it sure ain't you I'd talk to about it." It wasn't all that bad between them, not always, but Dean needed to let out some steam and John was the first one to come along.

He would never talk to Bobby like that. Bobby was Bobby, and even though he wasn't his father, that old man had been there for him all along. Back in the day and right the fuck now, too. The grizzled hunter knew when to back off and when to pry.

John, obviously, did not. While Bobby had gotten the hint when Dean told him Sam wasn't fine, John obviously had not.

"Well... you've made your point clear." John accepted the mug Dean handed him. "Maybe he should take suppressants if–"

"DAD. Shut it. Ain't none of your business."

"You done with ranting at me 'cause there's no one else around?"

"Yeah." Dean felt a bit embarrassed. Before the hunting accident, John never would have let Dean talk to him like that.

"Good." John took a sip from his coffee. "So... what happened in Lawrence?"

"Got jumped by demons. They've been after Sam." He'd be damned if he'd tell John everything right now. Dean was still tired, and he kind of felt for his omega's pain. Besides, he wasn't in the mood for a discussion with his father which might morph easily into a fight, as it seemed to do nowadays.

Dean sighed and sat down at the table across from his father. "So... we're fightin' what exactly?"

"They broke the pattern. Six cities are down, laid in dust within the past week."

"You think they're takin' a break for Sunday?"

John chuckled and huffed out an amused breath. "I think something happened. According to the book, they should have been done with the seals within thirteen days. Something must've gone south."

Dean bit down on his lower lip. "Might be 'cause one of the things is dead."...or because one of them isn't playing along. Which would prove that Sam's idea of this one parasite breaking the rules could be true. That maybe it wasn't wishful thinking. That Sam was right.

The older Winchester cocked an eyebrow at his son. "You do it?"

"Nah. Another of those... of Orthos's children... did," Dean admitted.

Curiosity bloomed on his father's face. "You're freakin' kidding me..."

"Sam said it saved his life, and mine. I didn't believe him at first, but..." Dean sucked in his lower lip.

John waited, but his son didn't continue. "But what?" he finally asked.

"But... maybe he's right," Dean said. "Maybe one of them isn't playing along."

John rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Dean..."

"I think we have to consider the possibility. If it's like that... it buys us time. Maybe, with us breaking the pattern, it's solved itself."

"Son. I know what you're thinkin', but we both know there's no such thing like good evil."

"There ain't just black and white, and you know it, dad."

"I know that there are monsters, and no monsters. That's what I know."

"Well, maybe you don't know everything. We have to think about the chance that Sam's right. That due to his connection with the parasite, the thing's turning against its kind."

"Don't be ridiculous." Of course John would never think about considering that point of view.

"Would it be so bad for something good to happen out there for once?" Dean asked. "To us?"

"You've been out of the game for too long, son."

"Maybe, but you know what it showed me?" He waited for John to look up from his mug at him. "It brought me peace. It brought me – occasionally – some kind of normal life."

"Domestic life, you mean," John chuckled and shook his head. Dean knew exactly what his father was trying to tell him with that. That he'd gotten soft. Blind to what was going on out there.

"I don't care what you wanna call it – I call it living. I'm as happy as I can possibly be right now, and in a way I hadn't thought I could be before. So yeah, if you wanna call it domestic, call it domestic. I'm happy with it. And you should be, too, 'cause you're my father. Fathers are supposed to be happy that their kids are happy, no matter which life they're living."

He stood up. "Sorry, dad, but I gotta check on Sam. Get him to drink something, and stuff." He brushed past his father, leaving him behind at the table thinking hard.

... to be continued


	35. This Is Slow Going ...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like always: THANKS to my amazing beta for improving my english! :)   
> she's an amazing girl!

Fields Of Jasmine  
Chapter 35 ~ This is slow-going … 

Dean laid down beside Sam on his left side and caught the omega's dazed gaze. 

“You shouldn't be talking to your dad like that.” Sam's voice was soft and a bit roughed up.   
“He fucked up.”, Dean said calmly and cupped his mate's left cheek in his hand. He was running a fever. Though a low one, but still …

“We're all fucked up. - But he's your dad. He's the last parent you've left.”  
“Family doesn't mean blood and blood sure as hell doesn't mean family, Sammy.”

“You told him about what I said to you … back at that motel. - You really think that it's like that? That Orpheus's on our side?”  
Sam had heard them, had listened to them. 

Dean sighed and shrugged. “I don't know. And – to be honest – it's hard to believe for me.” But registering how John reacted to what Dean had told him, had reminded him of himself. And he had sworn to himself that he'd never become like his father. The guy who lived for the gig. For the hunt. And not for his family entirely. “But I'm considering it to be true.”

So, maybe, Dean considered Sam's idea because John didn't. Either way, it was cool. That was this feely-touchy thing in which Dean wasn't all that good. Most of all he hated to think about himself and his motivations.   
That shit was something for shrinks.   
He'd stick with the common explanations. 

“You think John's gonna tell Bobby?” Sure Sam was a bit scared that he'd tell the grizzled man and that Bobby may would kick him out. 

“Bobby's gonna listen. He's gonna ask his own questions. And he's going to picture it for himself. He ain't gonna kick you out or something. He didn't before and he won't now.” Dean traced with his thump along Sam's cheekbone. 

Dean sighed and shook his head. You gotta drink.”  
Sam gave him a short nod and drank from the water Dean offered to him. Sam handed his alpha the glass back. 

“I hate the cramps.”  
“I know. - You want some Tylenol?”  
Sam shook his head and sighed. 

The alpha nodded pensively. He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it again. Dean wanted to stay here with Sam. He wanted to cuddle and snuggle the living shit out of his omega, just so he'd may feel better.   
But he wasn't sure how Sam'd take it. If he even wanted this. 

After all he's been acting like a total dick. And he still felt like the worst scum for acting on it. After a few moments of some more debating with himself, Dean rolled onto his back to get out of the bed again, but felt a huge palm curl around his wrist to hold him back. 

“Stay?”, it sounded fragile and vulnerable and so much like the Sam he'd been before Missouri had brought back his memories.   
Huge hazel-green eyes looked deep into his green ones. “You … you want me to stay?”

Sam's lips quirked up at the left corner. It was the closest to a smile Sam could actually muster. “I want you to stay.”

Dean hid the blinding smile of his soul behind a mask of decent happiness. He crawled under the covers and inched closer, until Sam's front was flush against his. He tugged Sam's head under his chin and buried his fingers in the omega's soft hair. 

He'd been lying if he claimed that the scent Sam was giving from him, wasn't intoxicating. It was even worse. Like poison dazing his mind and infiltrating his very nerves.   
It took Sam a moment, but he eventually snug his arm around Dean's waist. “You won't hurt him before we know, right?”

There was a beat of absolute silence.  
Dean sighed again. “Promise.”

Sam smiled into his mate's chest and rubbed his nose into Dean's shirt. “Swear.”, he demanded.   
“I swear.”, Dean murmured. His head felt heavy and fuzzy still. His muscles ached.   
“On pie?”, Sam knew he was being stupid. But he couldn't help it. 

“On the Impala, Sammy.”, Dean murmured, already half asleep.   
That much had to be said: No alpha ever fell asleep at his omega's side while in heat. Ever. 

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Sam didn't sleep.   
He felt exhausted and miserable and tired. But he didn't sleep. He couldn't. 

He was thinking about – what Dean had called the parasite and he was thinking about himself and heat and if it wasn't a better idea to take suppressants again.

He hated this. He hated the cramps and he hated to feel as if he was leaking. YES, leaking. Okay, Sam knew it only felt like it and that it wasn't enough to even stain his sweatpants. But it felt like it – a lot. And that was disgusting. 

Then there was the headache. No, scratch that. His full-body-ache.   
The way he felt like he was cold, but running hot on the inside. He hated the way he sweated and how his clothes stuck to his skin due that.   
Sam wished he could crawl out of his skin. 

He sighed heavily and sniffed. 

Carefully, not to wake his mate, Sam shifted and turned around. Then he turned on his other side again. Short after that, he groaned and shoved the covers off his body. 

It was a forth and back, until Sam decided that he have had enough.   
He needed a shower. Wherever a cool one or a hot one, or if he'd switch … he didn't care. He only wanted to feel clean again and less filthy. 

Starting with his hair, which curled in thick strands of damp cords and stuck to the back of his neck and his forehead. 

Ever so slowly, he crawled out of bed, got a fresh set of clothes from the closet and moved into the bathroom, where he turned on the hot water on. 

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

It didn't take long for Dean Winchester to sense the change. Actually, he didn't need longer than a single minute to register that something was different from when he had fallen asleep. And even if he couldn't possibly tell what, his subconscious mind was reacting to the lack of body-warmth beside him. 

When Dean's eyes fluttered open, the first thing he consciously noticed was, that Sam was gone. The second thing was, that the water in the bathroom was running and that there were noises coming from the other room. 

“Sammy?”, he croaked out, as he rolled onto his back and squinted into the room.  
It was dark. 

But there was light falling through the gap where the bathroom-door stood ajar and Dean saw a shadow move inside. He heard the rustling of towels and the unmistakable sound of Sam pulling the shower-curtain back. 

The alpha debated with himself wherever he was allowed to follow Sam inside or rather not. Maybe the omega wasn't in the mood to have company while showering. 

After all it hadn't been that long since their fight and Sam was in heat. Somehow, Dean didn't like that word at all. Animals had heats. Humans not so much. At least since he was with Sam. It was only a colloquial thing to call it that.   
Actually it was more like a circle or period only omegas had. 

A wave of sweet and heavy jasmine-scented air washed over him and tore him out of his thoughts.   
Dean heard bare feet shuffling over tiles and he eyed the bathroom-door even more curiously now.   
He also sensed his mate's discomfort and that he felt filthy … and disgusting.   
That was something, Dean Winchester didn't like, nor would he let Sam do this to himself. Being an omega wasn't something bad. It was special. Sam was special. He was rare. He was everything an alpha could ever want. 

Yeah, Dean knew he hadn't thought like that before. But Sam had changed that. He and the fact that he was the ex hunter's mate.   
It had changed a lot for Dean. 

Yeah, he may felt a bit distant towards other omegas, and he may not trusted them, but he trusted Sam. Because Sam was Sam and that omega was so different from the others. Not just because of his background. 

Dean plucked up all his courage and hopped out of bed. Gladly, he had taken his Vicodin before, so he wouldn't regret his sudden movement. Once, he had an extra set of towels and fresh sweatpants, he snug into the bathroom, where he laid his clothes on top of Sam's. 

The shower-curtain was closed and Sam hadn't seemed to have noticed him. Dean didn't intend to let Sam know anyway. Ever so silently, he got undressed.   
But then he hesitated for a moment as he reached for the curtain, unsure if it was the right call.   
Because it may wasn't. 

He'd promised Sam to not do anything he didn't want. And as the Winchester he was, he'd keep his promise. Not even when Sam was in heat.   
To be honest: Some alphas were idiots. No matter how precious omegas were, some alphas turned into freaking dick-bags when they came close to an omega in heat. 

But Dean Winchester wasn't such a dick-bag. Specially not with Sam. 

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Sam blew out a breath between his lips and small drops of water got blown from his pink lips. The water was hot and though pleasant. It ran over his forehead, soaked his hair and washed over his face. Cascades of the clear liquid ran down his – now definitely stronger looking – body. There were the hints of muscles and a bit of fat beneath soft skin. 

He didn't notice Dean's presence, until he felt the shift in the air and the faint stream of coolness against his back, when the shower curtain got pulled back mere centimeters. 

Sam's eyes snapped open and caught a pair of curiously glinting green eyes looking at him questioningly.   
The omega told his mate with a single look that it was okay to get in and he made some place for Dean. 

The ex hunter entered happily and pulled the curtain behind him closed as soon as he stood inside.   
It didn't take another moment for Dean to come closer. He backed up, until there was merely an inch between the both of them left. Sam stood with the back towards him, still in the hot spray of water. 

Dean urged him a bit forward though. “You should've told me.”, Dean said, a thin layer of wetness covering his skin already. 

“It wouldn't change anything, Dean.”, Sam murmured and tilted his head back to get some of the hot water directly at his neck.   
Dean's gaze wandered down Sam's tall frame and broad shoulders. His gaze landed on the livid bruise, which was already changing into yellow-greenish.   
“Yeah. It would. I would've known, Sammy.” He backed up and wrapped his arms around Sam's waist. “I could've gotten you Tylenol or something. So you'd be able to sleep.”

Sam leaned back against the older – but slightly shorter – man and let his eyes fall closed.   
“I don't want pain-pills.”, he murmured.   
“Why not? If it's that bad?”  
Sam made a small sound. 

He felt Dean's half-hard manhood against his left buttock. A soft sigh fell from Sam's lips. “You know that I want you, right?”, Sam spoke up after a few seconds of complete silence between he both of them. 

Dean's fingers fluttered over his mate's flat belly. “We've got all the time in the world, Sammy.” He nestled into Sam's neck, nipping at the sensitive skin. “We don't have to rush things.”  
The omega leaned back into him. “I want you to.”

Dean kissed the sensitive spot behind his mate's ear. “No.”  
“I want to.” He pushed back into Dean's crotch, getting his point across just perfectly.   
“That're ya' hormones talkin'.” He whispered against wet skin.

Sam seemed to ponder that. Silence filling the room, despite the everlasting sound of water hitting skin and tiles. 

“I want you to make love to me, Dean. I want you to kiss me. Touch me. I want to feel you inside of me. I want you to make me yours.” It was sincere. It wasn't just something someone said to get laid. It was Sam telling the ex hunter that he was ready for their bound to be sealed.

“We can't. It'd change everything. What if-”

“I won't change my mind. I don't want to break up with you. I want the both of us tied together.” Sam intertwined his fingers with Dean's. Then – without forcing him to – he guided Dean's hand further southwards towards his erection.   
“Sammy.”, he whined. “You don't know what you're doin' to me here ...”

“I don't say we're doing it now. - I just … I want you to know that … that I want to be yours. That … that I'm ready.”

Dean thought for a moment, feeling Sam's member in his palm. “You sure?”  
Sam hummed and tilted his head to the side in an awkward angle to give his mate a lingering kiss to his jaw. 

That was answer enough to the alpha. “I need you to be sure.”  
The omega gave him another kiss.   
“Okay.” Dean sighed. He unfolded his fingers from Sam's and laid his hands on his flanks. “Not 

now though.”   
Dean didn't want to bind them when it was during Sam's heat. He thought to know, that hormones had quite some power over an omega and as long as Sam was in his circle he wouldn't do anything like getting into his pants to seal their bond. 

On the other hand, Dean also knew that hormones hadn't THAT much power over someone and that they wouldn't intrigue Sam into something like that if he didn't mean it.   
Dean didn't doubt that Sam wanted this. He was more questioning if Sam was truly ready for this, or if he was going to hurt his mate in some kind if they'd have their first time now.   
First times were important to mates. First times would seal what was between them. It'd make them whole in some kind of way. 

And Dean Winchester would not intend to rush things.   
Dean pushed gently, and Sam obliged instantly. He took a step forward, so did Dean. The omega laid his hands on the tiles and let his head drop forward, hot water hitting the back of his head, neck and bruises. He felt Dean back up, strong hands skimming carefully along his sides. He felt hot lips press into his skin and the building heat in his lower belly increase. 

A low sigh fell from the omega's lips. He made a tiny shuffle forward, so that he could let his forehead rest against the warmed up tiles before him.

He felt his mate back away for a moment and when the other body was back behind his, there was the cool, slick feeling of soaped up hands on his back. Calloused hands rubbed shower gel into his skin tenderly. They wandered to his front, beginning at his chest. Soft palms brushed over his hard buds, electing a gasp from Sam's mouth. 

“Relax, baby.”, Dean murmured against his mate's skin. 

Sam obeyed instantly, like Dean was in control of his nerves and muscles. 

“You're so soft.”, the alpha praised, his left hand moving lower feeling muscles ripple under soaped up skin. “So soft, sweetheart.” He continued to roam the man's body with his hands and mouth.   
His left hand wandered down, neglecting the omega's impressive manhood, to reach what lay hidden behind it. 

At the first touch of fingertips brushing feather-lightly along parted flesh, Sam gasped and for a moment it looked as if his knees would give out. 

But he stood his ground after a moment of weakness, pushing back against Dean's manhood, feeling the hardness slip in between his slightly spread thighs. 

“Baby.”, Dean groaned, pushing up against his mate's skin. “You're all … tender … and so incredibly sweet.”, he murmured in between kisses, his fingers diving in between slick folds, brushing over a hard pearl at their top. 

Sam stifled a moan and bit down on his lip – hard – keeping himself silent. He wouldn't allow himself any loud noises or even cries. Hell, Sam had no clue why, 'cause he damn well could cry out at the warm feeling Dean was rousing inside of him. So instead he stuck to those small sweet noises he was making anyway. 

Dean continued to massage the small bundle of nerves, not intending to penetrate Sam in any way. He'd get him to come just from that. Hell, and if those noises Sam was making wouldn't reach out to get himself off …   
“Don't … don't hold back.”, Dean rasped in that husky voice of his. “You don't have to.”

Sam's breathy, desperate aroused sounds grew louder, his squirming more. His legs did grow shakier.   
“Yeah, that's it, baby. - Let me hear you.” Dean groaned at the twitch of pleasure he received at his own encouragement. Another jolt of arousal set the alpha's nerve-ends at edge, when Sam made a low guttural sound which was pretty much the mixture of a moan and a desperate whimper.

Without a second thought, Dean took his member in his free hand and wrapped his fingers around it tightly before he started to pump into his own fist.

Dean felt the exact moment his omega came. The moment, Sam's body tensed and a surprised cry fell from his lips. The very moment, slickness was pouring out of him and his manhood twitched and bulged at the sheer force of the orgasm which ripped through him. 

It was just that, what Dean sent over the edge too.   
Through the haze of his orgasm, he managed to catch himself before he'd crash Sam in between himself and the wall. Dean panted into Sam's neck, water raining down on his head and running down his face and back, where he had moved under the spray of water. He pulled Sam back against him, moving him back under the warmth of the water. 

The thick and heavy scent of his omega lingered in the air. 

He gave Sam's hard nub one last gentle flick, before he pulled back.   
It took them some more minutes before they were ready to rinse off and finish up in the bathroom.   
They decided that they were hungry after another lazy make-out session on their bed. Though, this time Sam insisted on taking the lead. 

The omega was on top of his mate, straddling his lap and bowed forward to catch those luscious soft lips in his mouth. 

It wasn't like he wouldn't feel the cramps or the slight pounding in his head anymore. He did. But wherever from the distraction or his hormones raging through his blood, Sam didn't care less at the moment. 

Sam slid down his mate's naked torso, leaving a trail of kisses and kitten-like licks along his sternum and belly. His big hands rested at Dean's sides until a few seconds ago. Now they were nudging the alpha's sweat-pants and boxer-briefs down.   
Dean tilted his hips up, leaving it up to Sam to control the scene. A low long moan rattled from his throat, when his achingly hard erection came free. His jaw dropped open and his eyes slammed shut at the first feel of slick wetness brushing over his manhood. 

Not knowing what to do with his hands, the alpha found that ridiculously soft mop of hair. He tangled the fingers of his right hand into them, though not in an act to control Sam's movements. 

Dean didn't fist his hair, or made any attempt to do something that'd let on that he was the one in control. Because he wasn't. 

It was Sam who was. 

And Dean was the one at Sam's mercy. 

Sam waited for his mate's hand to form a fist in his hair, to MAKE him in some kind of way. His heart beat faster and louder at the thought of being FORCED, though not in that good kind of way. 

Sam closed his eyes and breathed in before his rose lips closed around his mate's erection 

“Oh god.”, Dean moaned at the feel of wet, hot tightness closing around the crown of his manhood. If that wasn't already enough to make him come … Knowing that it was Sam. His Sam. - That fact alone made the fire in his lower abdomen burn up a nodge. 

The ex hunter bit down on his lower lip – hard – keeping himself from bucking up into that wet heat and soft flesh around him. He bit even harder, as he had to withstand the urge to hold onto his mate's scalp and push him down in his haze of arousal 

“Sammy.”, it was definitely a mixture between a whine and a pretty desperate moan. 

This could practically be called the most mind-blowing blow-job ever. The things Sam did with his tongue … with his lips. That was definitely something supernaturally extraterrestrial and couldn't possibly be from this universe. 

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

one week later … 

Both men lay on the bed, half naked and panting, blissed out from their former activities.   
Dean lay still on his back, while Sam had himself curled up against his alpha's side, one leg thrown over Dean's. One of the omega's arms rested across Dean's belly and his head was nestled into the crook of his shoulder and neck. 

Both men were fixing points wherever on the ceiling or the far wall beside the window.   
It was dark outside and still, the soft silvery beams of the moon were illuminating the room softly. Sam shifted and made a small sound. 

They didn't talk. No words at all.   
Because they didn't have to. They KNEW. 

Dean's fingers carved through Sam's thick locks as he rubbed circles into his scalp. Both of them were drifting off into sleep soon after … 

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Not even ten miles away from the Salvage, a black furred creature with white eyes strode through the woods. It's restless orbs searched it's surrounding carefully, while it moved ever so silently.   
Tried blood was covering the animal's – or rather monster's – left flank. 

The being got to an abrupt hold and it blinked, tilted his head to the left side and its ears perked up.   
It listened for long seconds, but there was nothing heard that could've been caught by human's ears. 

The very next moment it broke into a run and nearly at the same moment, there was a loud pang heard and something thrilled into the ground where the creature had been standing a second before.   
It howled as something grazed its left rear and it tripped, though it caught itself before falling.

It took Orthos's child only a minute to get back on track, though it limped slightly.   
Again, something was hissing through the air right beside the creature's head, and it kept on running. If anything its pace became a bit faster.

Though, the next hiss stopped, as the projectile tore into the creatures flesh and it went down with a pained whine, sending it straight for the damp ground and down a slope. 

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Samuel T. Harvelle gasped awake, his eyes wide with fear and blind panic, as he reached for his chest and fisted the soft material of his hoodie in his sweaty palm. Heavy pants fell from his half-open mouth and he sucked in a shuddering breath, instantly feeling his chest tighten painfully.

… to be continued


	36. I've got the plot, you've got the reviews

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry. This Chapter is not beta'd yet ...   
> though I hope it'll be soon. 
> 
> Oh, and I'm very sorry that it's so slow going. It's probably the worst writer's block I've ever had.   
> I know the plot. I just can't get myself to write ...

Fields Of Jasmine  
Chapter 36 ~ I've Got The Plot, You've got the reviews!

Sam was pacing the living-room, his flat palm resting above his heart, his breaths came out in small puffs. 

Dean was sitting on the couch, watching Sam stride back and forth, eyes frantic and unfocused and his hands shaking. Of course he had tried to get his mate to calm down – or at least to sit. He had wanted him to have a glass of water and he had begged him to talk to him. 

To tell him what he had been dreaming. What he had been seeing.

But Sam only told him that he didn't know what it was and what was going on.   
The omega made – yet again – an u-turn as he reached the door towards the kitchen. Sam seemed even more agitated than an hour before. 

"Sammy.", Dean broke the silence yet again and sighed. "Please."  
The omega stopped in his tracks, his forehead creased in deep lines. He gave his alpha a pleading look. "I can't.", Sam breathed and he pinched the bridge of his nose in distress. "I ... I should be somewhere else right now ..."

They had been already that far. "Where, Sam? Where do you need to be?"

Sam's gaze morphed into something more ... emotionally pained. "I don't know ... I ... I really don't. I ... I don't know what's wrong with me ... I-"

The ex hunter got up from the couch with a wince. He didn't need to say that he was hurting, Sam could tell anyway. His leg was making troubles again. Even though Dean took one of his pills right after he'd gotten up with Sam. 

Dean sountered around the couch and the coffee table and was in front of Sam a second later. He put his hands on the taller man's shoulders as he caught his gaze. 

Sam's pupils were blown. His muscles taut under Dean's calloused hands.   
They stared each other in the eyes for a long minute and then Dean wrapped Sam up in his arms and held him – tight. So tight, as if Dean wanted to fuse his mate's body with his.   
"It's okay, baby.", Dean whispered into Sam's ear with an heavy sigh. He had first hoped, that it had been about a nightmare. That when Sam first gasped awake, making a pitiful noise, that it had been some night terror. 

But after the first hour had passed and Sam hadn't calmed down, Dean figured that this wasn't just because of a nightmare. He figured that this had to be more than just that. 

"I don't know what's goin' on. I really don't. It's like I have to be somewhere ... but I don't know where. Like ... like ... I don't know. And it hurts. - Not physically, you know? But ... it's just there ..." Sam murmured into his mate's neck. 

"Shush.", Dean breathed into his ear. It tore on his insides not to know how to ease Sam's discomfort, how to make it go away. The feeling of being helpless formed a dark giant pit in the depths of his stomach.   
He had no clue what to say to Sam. He had no words – no words at all. 

Sam blew out a shuddering breath and let his eyes slide closed.   
"Why don' you lie down a bit, Sammy, huh?" Dean trailed with his palm down Sam's back and his hand came to a rest at the small of his back. Instantly, he felt the younger man's agitation grow again. "Just on the couch. You don't need to sleep though. Just lay down ... I'll stay with you."

Sam trembled. He swallowed hard against the lump in his throat.   
"What do I do?", he asked his alpha desperately. "What do I do?"

"Come and lie down with me.", Dean spoke calmly into his mate's ear. "Just for a couple of minutes. - You gotta be exhausted. And tired." He himself was too. There was no use to denie that. But he couldn't probably tell that Sam ... "As long as we don't know what it is ... what ... THIS means ... - There's no use to pace the living-room until the panels are due." 

Sam buried his face deeper into his mate's shoulder and his long fingers wrapped into Dean's shirt. "'kay.", he murmured. 

"Good." Dean breathed a sigh of relieve. "C'mon." He still believed, that – as soon as he'd get Sam to lie down – that his younger mate would eventually fall asleep again. 

They made their way around the couch. 

Dean sat down at the farthest end to the left of the couch and patted his knee. "C'mon. Get your scrawny ass over here."

"My ass ain't scrawny.", the omega mumbled as he slumped down beside his mate.

Dean chuckled and wiggled his eyebrows. "Nah ... you're right. He's perky and juicy and all kinds of sexy." There was a hint of smugness (if that word even existed, Sam mused) in his forest-green orbs. 

Sam let his head sink into the ex hunter's lap. "Nuhu. Your butt is perkier ... and real nice ..."  
For a moment it looked like Sam'd relax into their banter. But his hopes were destroyed as soon as he watched Sam curl up into a tight ball, his knees pulled up to his chin.   
"I can tell yours is nicer, babe.", Dean murmured as he traced with his fingertips along Sam's cheekbone. 

The younger man releaved a shuddering breath. His fingers searched the collar of his shirt. "It's all good.", Dean whispered "It's all good. Try to relax a little bit, baby." He brushed over Sam's hair, his forehead. Dean kept his voice soft and calm, hoping htat he'd lull Sam to sleep. 

It lasted a bit over ten minutes.   
Sam was about to doze off, his eyelids getting heavier with every passing second. Even when he faught it. 

~ '67 Chevrolet Impala ~

Obsidian crawled over the ice-gray color of the young man's circles and infiltrated the white until it was completely gone. 

He adjusted the quiver's holder, which was slung over his shoulder. His lips twitched and his black eyes glistened in the soft light of candles as he walked into the room. The boy – since he couldn't be any older than eighteen – tightened his hold around the crystalline jar in his left hand as he narrowed the fire-place before which a white-haired man sat in a huge recliner. 

The man didn't turn around, even if he was supposed to hear the approaching young man. No. His yellow-eyes reflected the red and orange of the open fire and shone gleefully. 

“You have it.”, Azazel stated. It wasn't a question. Because he knew. He could smell it. Hear it in the way the demon was approaching him. All eager and proud and self-conscious about what he had managed.  
About proofing himself.   
Showing his boss that he was useful and good and that he was worth to be kept. And maybe even, that he was worth to replace Yellow-eye's daughter. 

“I do, Sir.”, the boy spoke, and even if he tried to hide his shit-eating grin, he couldn't.   
This was too good to be true. 

He, a no-name, low-rank demon had managed to bring down one of hell's most feared creatures. One of Orthos's children. 

“It's dead?” Azazel blinked once and pursed his lips.   
The demon didn't hesitate with his answer. Because he was so damn sure that he was right. “Yes, it's dead.”

There was a long moment of silence.   
“You saw it die?”, Yellow-eyes asked curiously. 

“I poisoned the arrows with dead-man's blood and belladonna. It bled out before it could heal itself.”, the boy answered calmly. Though, everyone could see tension crawling up his spine which made him straighten up slightly. 

The lack of approvement of his master seemed to distress him.   
“Fine.”, Azazel grumbled – obviously a bit disappointed. “Where's it's blood?”

~ '67 Chevrolet Impala ~

It was then – when he had barely dozed off again.   
His eyes flew open.   
Cold rain was trashing down on him from the skies above. The thick curtain of water made it barely able to let him see where he was. 

He only knew it was dark. Night. Raining. 

Or was it a dream?

A blink later, he found himself running. Though, his hight and definitely the way his body seemed to be formed didn't fit. He was too close to the ground – and somehow ... all this seemed to happen too fast. 

He was running too fast for his physical abilities. 

It had to be a dream. Right?

Something hissed past his ear and got caught in a tree mere inches aside of him. He felt wind brushing past him. Underwood getting caught in his long black fur. 

And then there was another hiss and a sharp pain in his chest. He felt himself stumble and fall and and slip down a slope.

Just when a hooded man appeared above him, he felt a sharp pain stabbing through his skull and everything went black.

~ '67 Chevrolet Impala ~

Dean was above his mate, straddling his lower belly. He had him pinned against the mattress, keeping his arms down with as much gentleness as possible. 

If it hadn't been for a certainf orceful punch into the ex hunter's ribs, Dean wouldn't have noticed his mate seizing beside him. But when he did, he worked fast and efficient until he wouldn't be able to hurt himself. 

Then, suddenly, the young omega went lax beneath him. 

"Sammy.", Dean choked out. What the hell was that? "Sam ... can you hear me? Sammy?"

The omega's head lolled to the side on the pillow, sweaty bangs of hair sticking to his face.   
The alpha took Sam's face in between his hands und rubbed with his thumps over his cheeks. 

"Sam.", Dean murmured again. He rubbed over Sam#s forehead, brushing more hair aside. "Shit."  
One moment his mate was fast asleep and the other one he's been – kind of – seizing.   
What reminded him of that one time, when he'd come from shopping, finding Sam and Bobby on the floor, cookies everywhere. 

"Vision.", the ex hunter mumbled hoarsely. "What the hell."

He climbed off of Sam's lap, one hand staying on his chest, feeling the erratic rise and fall as he breathed. 

Dean hesitated for the longest of seconds, before he got up with a huff and went into the kitchen to get water and pills. Like he thought, Sam was still unconcsious when he returned into the bedroom. 

Nonetheless, he sat down at Sam's side and patted his cheek gently. 

"Baby?", he asked concerned with a deep frown on his forehead. "C'mon, Sam."

He didn't get any response, except for fluttering eyelids and a small sound.   
"Sam.", he repeated harsher.   
Obviously, it seemed to work.   
A full-body-shiver wrecked his mate's body and then Sam's eyes fluttered open to small slits. The omega drew in a shaky breath. 

"There you go, Sweetheart." He breathed a sigh of relieve. "That's it."  
Sam's hand lifted and landed on his forehead. He winced. "Shit."  
"You can say that." Dean sat back, his hand on Sam's chest. "What the hell was that?"

His omega squeezed his eyes shut and drew in a slow breath. The smell of wet dog still stuck in his nostrils. 

"I don't know ... It's ..." Sam exhaled carefully as if it'd hurt. "My head."

"Got 'ya pills." Dean helped him to sit up and handed him the pills. He watched his mate swallowe them with two long gulps of water. 

He murmured a thanks and laid back, his hand still pressed to his forehead. 

"Wanna try go back to sleep?"

Sam shook his head and got rewarded with a wave of dizziness and a flash of pain.   
"Wanna talk about it?" Dean eyed his mate uncertainly. 

Sam breathed a soft "No". 

The alpha chewed on the insides of his lips.   
Sam felt his mate's gaze at him. He sighed and rolled to his side, away from Dean. Though he added while he turned around: "Just ..." 

Sam didn't say anything else, only wrapped the comforter tighter around his shoulders and pulled his knees up.  
For a short moment, Dean had though tthat Sam'd push him away or something. The simple gesture nearly giving him a heart attack, but he had been wrong – gladly. Sam's soft voice assured him that it was nothing like that. 

He noticed that, when Sam reached for Dean's and and tugged on his sleeve.

"Yeah. O'corse. Gonna take a leak before though." He brushed over Sam's side and got up.   
When Dean came back from the bathroom, Sam lay on the bed just like before, curled up into a tight ball. The ex hunter slipped under the covers and tugged Sam closer. 

He brushed over Sam's hair. 

"I think they killed him." Because that's what it had felt like. The pain. The coldness. That cold smirk with which the young hooded man had stared down at him. He felt something tear into his flesh, breaking bones ... Like it had been he himself ... 

The alpha frowned, but didn't say anything. Sam may or may not would continue, and if he did, he shouldn't keep talking because Dean wanted him too. The ex hunter knew, that Sam'd tell him sooner or later. 

So why prying?

Instead he brushed over Sam's head and cheek and wrapped his arm around the omega's middle.   
He still couldn't wrap his mind around it, that Sam was capable of making himself THAT small.   
"Orpheus. - I think they killed him. I saw it. I FELT it ..." He trailed off and closed his eyes for a moment. "He ... he was running ... and ... then he fell ... and there was this man ..."

Dean traced with his figertips up and down his mate's spine. Orpheus. The parasite. The thing Sam had called his CHILD. 

What started off like a slight tremble, soon morphed into something more ... intensive. "I think ... he's dead, Dean. Why ... I mean ... I thought ..." Sam knew that this was irrational. He knew that he actually didn't have any reason to grief over the creature, had he? 

And though he felt like crying. 

"It's ... I'm sorry, Sammy." Dean had no clue wat to say to his mate. He had no clue how someone like Sam was ticking and what it'd do to someone to loose a kid. Even if that parasite hadn't been Sam's child anyway. 

Fuck that. It was too complicated to think about it right now and Dean Winchester was way to tired to intent. 

"I know it's stupid ... but ... He was panicked. He ... he was afraid." Sam choked back a hiccup. "I ... I could feel it ..."

Dean swallowed. Hard. 

The alpha had no clue why he felt his eyes burn. Why his throat was closing up on him. And he didn't know how the death of a monster could possibly affect him like that and bring him to the brink of tears. 

Then again ... he could feel what Sam was feeling. And when Sam sensed what the creature had been feeling, it wasn't impossible to not sense nothing. 

The alpha tugged his mate closer and closed his eyes. "I know, Baby. I know." 

He kissed the younger man's forehead tenderly. "You know where?"

Sam shook his head. "I only saw woods."

"Duh." Dean blrew out a breath. If Sam'd had at least a hint to where this would happen, or had happened, they could've probably look for the creature – or whatever. 

~ '67 Chevrolet Impala ~

Sam had a restless sleep. He trashed and turned and was murmuring unistinguishable things. That was why Dean didn't get a whole lot of sleep either.

The next morning came pretty quick too, since neither of the both of them could get back to sleep after Sam last got up to visit the bathroom. 

That had been about six in the morning. 

~ '67 Chevrolet Impala ~

They got up then and got dressed in silence. 

Dean and Sam then headed into the kitchen, where they made breakfast.   
Too, in perfect silence. 

When breakfast was ready, they set up the table and filled their plates, but no one of them was actually eating. The both men only nursed their coffee-filled mugs and avoided each other's gazes. 

Eventually, Sam got up and went for the frontdoor. 

The alpha followed him with his gaze and was about to get up too to follow Sam, but the omega stopped in his tracks, turned around and shook his head with a pleading expression on his face, telling Dean "No". 

So Dean sat back down. 

He felt so damn miserable. 

First, because he obviously had understimated Sam's and the crature's bond.   
Second. Because he couldn't ease his mate's sadness, even if he tried. That was something he knew. 

And third. Just because ... 

Dean put their breakfas t- scrambled egs – into the fridge and refilled his mug with coffee.   
He gazed at the watch every now and then, keeping an eye on how long Sam was outside. Alone. Doing god knew what ... 

After fifty-six minutes and seventeen seconds the ex hunter have had enough.   
Dean Winchester slipped into his boots and his jacket and stormed outside, just to get to an aprupt halt when he spotted Sam sitting at the stairs. 

He had thought that Sam may had been wandering the yard What wasn't a bad thing. But thinking about all the things that were happening out therr right now and the knowledge tha tthey could still want to come for Sam – just because they were digbags – wouldn't let him rest in peace.   
So he'd rather follow his mate. 

"I was just sittin ghere.", Sam murmured, his words sounding wet. Dean watched the younger man whipe over his face with the sleeve of his hoodie.   
Sam'd been crying. 

Dean didn't say anything.   
He sat down beside Sam and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. He then tugged him closer and the both of them continued to stare at the different shades of gravel before their feet. 

~ '67 Chevrolet Impala ~

They went to Bobby's for noon, where everyone – even John – noticed that something wasn't quite right. So while Sam had fallen asleep after lunch, on Bobby's couch, the younger Winchester gathered the others – Bobby, John, Jim and Ellen – in the kitchen and told them about Sam's vision.   
It wasn't a thing he wouldn've told them. But under those circumstances and the fact that this may could be important he had to. 

He didn't tell them about what Sam had felt though. Only that he'd have a vision and that he'd seen Orthos and that Sam thought that the creature was dead.   
And – of course – that there'd been someone else. 

~ '67 Chevrolet Impala ~

While the others spread out to get informations about weird animal sightings, Bobby and Dean stayed in the kitchen. 

Bobby was doing hte dishes and Dean was leaning beside him against the counter, a mug with coffee in one hand and the other one in his jeans pocket playing with the keys of his Impala.   
The grizzled hunter had been a little bit silent while lunch and after that too. 

And for the others ... usually they wouldn't go each others ways after lunch that fast. Ususally they were drinking coffee and wer chatting.   
"What is it?", Dean finally asked and gazed at Bobby. 

The grizzled hunter sighed and dropped the sponge into the sink instantly. Obvously he'd been waiting for Dean to notice or something. Or maybe Dean talking up made whatever he wanted to say easier. 

What bothered the youngest Winchester suddenly. Usually, Robert Singer was no one to dance around the bush. He'd always been straight forward. 

Dean frowned at Bobby and pushed away from the counter. He turned towards the older man and rose both eyebrows, his heartrate picking up slightly. 

It had to be something bad, hadn't it? "Bobby?", Dean choked out. He sensed bad news. Real bad news. "What ... what is it? You guys find anything out about the ritual?"

Bobby huffed out a breath and sighed. He then shook his head and huffed out another breath. "No, son. Nothing like that." The grizzled man stole a vague glance at the ex hunter. "It's ..." Bobby hesitating never meant something good. 

"I need you in the shop, Dean." The grizzled hunter thrust his jaw forward (what was actually not really visible under all that beard). He was actually facing the younger Winchester but wasn't able to look him in the eyes. "I ... I don't like that I've to ask you to ... but I need help. There are about five cars standing at the yard which I need to have a look at. Customers are calling when their cars are ready to pick up ... It's ..." He sighed again and rubbed over his beard, visible uncomfortable. "I know it's hard, okay? I do understand that. And I know that Sam's not ready to ... you know ... But I need to keep the shop going and I can't do that on my own. Not now. People are waiting for their cars .. and I ... I just ..." Bobby was babbling. Robert Singer was freaking babbling. 

Rather surprised, Dean stared at his bearded friend with cocked eyebrows. "That's all?"  
Bobby caught Dean's gaze and stared at him for a long moment. Obviously shocked that his friend didn't seem as bothered about it as he was. "What ... that's all? - I'm asking you to come back to the shop."

Bobby had seemed to think that it was a big deal. 

Though ... "That's not a big deal. - Figured you'd tell me they rose Lucifer from hell or something." Dean chuckled and shook his head. The initial shock already gone again.   
Though, he knew why Bobby seemed so nervous about it. Because of Sam. Because the omega was a lot, but surely not ready to ... 

Dean stopped himself right there. 

Sam was capable of a lot of things. He could take care of himself. He could occupy himself.   
Though ... right now it may was a bad timing. 

"Is monday okay?", Dean asked, trying to act and look relaxed, even when first doubts bloomed in the back of his head. "I'd ... like to prepare Sam for it, 'kay? Besides ..." He gestured into the living-room. 

Bobby nodded. "Sure thing." He too, was obviously relieved.   
"You know, you could've said something earlier." Dean sighed and shook his head. 

"When? After getting the parasite out of Sam? Maybe when he had his ... seizures? - You couldn't have left Sam on his own and I couldn't have demanded that from you." The grizzled man was right, and he knew it. So did Dean. 

The only question was, how Sam'd take it if he'd tell him, that he was going ot work again and that Sam'd be on his own ... 

Then again ... maybe some alone-time for the omega wasn't that bad, since they were practically glued together ever since Dean had gotten him from Columbus. 

Though. 

What could possibly go wrong?

... to be continued

OF COURSE everything can go wrong, right, folks? ^^  
I'm so very sorry for those long waits in between. I'm so wound up with school, that it's hard to write in between ...


	37. Orpheus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ......... still no beta found ........
> 
> I'm honestly sorry for all my mistakes. I hope you'll forgive me ... 
> 
> you can also find me here: www.facebook.com/bruisedbloodybroken

Fields Of Jasmine   
Chapter 37 ~ Make me scream

Dean left the omega asleep on Bobby's couch. He and the grizzled man did the dishes together and Bobby was telling him about the cars which needed to be fixed until the end of next week. 

The youngest Winchester assured him that it wouldn't be an issue and that he should've told him earlier. 

And Robert Singer had – again – pointed out, that it hadn't been the right timing so far and that he wasn't sure if it was today. 

But the both knew, that credit card fraud and such weren't possible in a town like Sioux Falls. They had to earn their money the hard way. So hustling pool and poker were a no-go too nowa days. After all they had to live with those people in town longer than just a couple of days or weeks. 

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

After that was settled and the dishes done, Dean settled back down in the living-room and kicked back in the recliner, where it took him only a couple of minutes to doze off. 

It was hours later, when Dean Winchester woke up again.   
He felt warm and fuzzy and comfortable. Except for his damn leg and hip giving him trouble. He made a small sound when he adjusted himself in the recliner. 

There was a blanket draped over his lab and legs.   
He groaned and shifted again, though the pull in his hip wouldn't go away. 

That was it with sleeping for the younger Winchester. So he opened his eyes, even if he didn't want to. His attention was instantly directed at where he remembered Sam had been fast asleep hours ago.

His omega was still there. And he was still fast asleep.   
The alpha tugged at the blanket and sat up halfway, noticing that the recliner hadn't been such a good choice.   
His neck felt a bit stiff.   
“Rough night?” John's voice cut through the comfortable silence. Though, it wasn't mocking. It was honest with a hint of concern. 

Dean groaned in response.   
“He's … Sam's not what I think he is.” John sat down at the coffee table. “You were right.”  
Dean cocked an eyebrow at his father. Was that really his father talking? Then … why right now? He had just woken up and …   
Actually Dean Winchester didn't feel like talking at all.

“Look.”  
“I just got up, John.”, Dean groaned and sat up, stretching his back and arms.   
“Yeah … I … maybe it's not the right moment to … I … look, Son. I just need you to know that …” John ran his hand through his salt and pepper hair and sighed. “You were right about Sam. And ...”  
“So .. you're leaving? You've got a hunt lined up and you think you may not come back from it?”

Yep, Dean hit it dead in the eye. 

The youngest Winchester had heard that kind of talk more often than he could possibly count. His father used to tell him how sorry and wrong he'd been in his past whenever he'd have a pretty dangerous hunt of which he wasn't sure he'd survive. 

John chuckled, his lips curling up into a fond smile. He knew he'd been caught in the act. AGAIN.   
“That's the – I might not come back from this – talk.” Dean straightened up and threw the blanket aside. 

John nodded. “Me, Ellen and Jim are gonna have a look into something. Try to find out some things about the ritual. Maybe finding a demon we can interrogate ...” The older man nodded towards Sam. “I WAS wrong.”, John insisted. “He sure ain't that dangerous … thing … I thought he was.”

Dean squinted at his father. “How come?”

“Can't I change my mind?” John's temper started to show. He didn't like prying. People had to take what he was capable of giving.

“Nope. John Winchester never changes his mind.”, Dean grumbled. 

“I can. I did.”, the older alpha's voice high-pitched. “You're my son. And he's ...” obviously it was still hard to say it out loud. “... he's your mate. I get it. - Some day I'll retire. And when I retire I want to see my son happy. I want … I don't know what I actually want. But I know that I'd chose an apple-pie life over the one I'm living now too if I'd ever had the chance.”

It sounded honest. And it may was. Dean couldn't tell since he still was half asleep. 

“It's your choice. Your life. I know that now. YOU have to be happy. And if it's Sam (there still was a weird tone in his fathers voice as he called the omega by his name) then I won't change that.”, John continued before his son could say anything. 

“You got a lead on one?”, Dean finally asked and watched his father closely, so that he wouldn't miss that tiny change on his face when he'd lie to him. IF he'd lie to him. “A demon?”

John sighed and shook his head. “Not yet. We've got something that looks like a demon's possession but we can only tell for sure when we're there … when we've talked to the witnesses ...”

His father wasn't lying. 

Dean nodded in understanding. “You guys keep callin', yeah?”

It wasn't much the younger alpha could muster without sounding all touchy-feel. The both of them knew, that Dean was worried even though they weren't at the best terms at the moment.   
John offered a small smile. “Sure thing, kid.”

The older man got up from the table and straightened his his jeans and button-down shirt. It looked a bit awkward and if John wanted to say something else to his son – as if he didn't get rid of all the things he had wanted to tell him. 

“Dad?”, Dean asked when his father hesitantly turned his back on him with a small gesture of his hand. 

The hunter turned around and gazed at his son. 

“Take care, 'kay? Don't do anything stupid, you got me?” It wasn't like Dean wouldn't want to go with them. Hell, his whole body and mind were aching for a hunt. Specially for a demon-hunt. But he also knew that he was in no condition for something like that. Not for such a big thing. 

Sure, ghosts and ghouls and maybe poltergeists. But werewolves or even demons? Nope. Dean was out of the game for too long and most of all, he'd hold back his friends by coming with them.   
He might even get them into danger. 

One wrong move and his leg wouldn't obey him anymore. He was the weakest part of this chain – at least in hunter's business – now. 

“I'll do. - And you … take care of your omega.” It was a soft warm smile, close to loving, which John gave his son. “And yourself. - You look like shit, Son.”  
Dean smiled back at him and watched him move upstairs. 

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

It was a pretty nice Saturday morning. 

It was warm outside. 

Sam sat on the steps of the porch, hazel-brown lace and cream-satin covering his lean body. He had his chin resting on his knees and was staring out into the yard. 

Actually he would've never worn the dress again, even though he had thought about it. But that morning – Dean was already out of bed when he had woken up – Sam had found it laying on the empty side of the bed. The clothes from yesterday already discharged into the laundry-bin beside the door. 

The front-door opened and bare feet patted over the wooden panels of the porch. Sam felt a calloused hand brush over his exposed left upper arm when the footfalls stopped behind him and a second later, he felt Dean slip up behind him. Muscular arms wrapped around Sam's middle and urged him backwards until he was leaning against Dean's torso. 

The ex hunter hummed contently, his finger-tips fluttering over Sam's belly.   
Sam's head lolled back into the crook of his mate's neck and he let his eyes fall closed.   
“You good?”, Dean whispered into his omega's ear. 

Sam made a content sound. Sure he was good. He was better than good … okay, at least right at the moment anyway. 

They hadn't found any weird corpses of dead animals anywhere in the surrounding woods. Nor have they heard any news about one being found either. 

Dean felt bad for his mate. Not because he was grieving. But because he was hoping. No corpse meant, that Orpheus may wasn't dead.   
That he got away.   
That he survived.   
And Dean figured that that would be even harder on Sam if they'd found out that the kid – creature actually – WAS dead.   
Not that Dean thought that Orpheus was dead. He didn't wish for that either.   
But knowing that Sam'd suffer even worse later on … 

Sam reached for Dean's hands and interlaced his hands with his mate's. “You sure no one can see ...” Sam sucked in his lower lip and bit down on it. 

“No one's gonna see you in the dress. No one but me.” The alpha tugged one of his hands free and it started to wander upwards, coming to a rest right above Sam's heart. He pressed his flat palm against he soft fabric. “You shouldn't worry about it either, you know? You're lookin' gorgeous.”

A thoughtful sigh fell from his mate's lips. Sam opened his mouth to say something, but he snapped it shut again without uttering a single syllable. 

“Nope. You aren't looking funny. And it sure ain't awkward either. That's you. It'll always be you.”, Dean assured him. 

No, Dean Winchester wasn't a kinky type. He'd never been. Okay, maybe a bit. Slight bondage, maybe even chocolate-sauce … but nothing out of the ordinaire anyway. 

He liked this, because it was Sam. And Sam damn well looked handsome no matter what he was wearing. But this? The dress? - It surely was something special when his mate was wearing it.   
Because Sam wasn't only a guy. He was also a girl. And even if he WAS a guy and would like to wear skirts, Dean couldn't care any less. 

Though …   
It was as it was.   
It was in Sam's nature.   
He got born that way. (Not that guys who liked to wear woman's clothes were sick or something. Dean Winchester would never even think that way.)

Aside from the whole biological thing with hormones too.   
Why should something simple like that being denied to Sam if a part of him longed for it? 

“But ...”  
“Nope. Don't wanna hear it. - I like you that way – or any other. I like how it's fitting you. The tight top. The wide skirt. The way the sleeves fall over your shoulders and ...” Dean Winchester couldn't stop himself from running his pointing finger along the neckline, barely touching Sam's skin in the process. 

Dean pit his lower lip as he felt Sam's body tremble. “... how it doesn't hide your mile-long legs.” Ever so slowly he guided his finger downwards, running them along the omega's side, his hip and down his calves, where the fabric barely hid Sam's knees. The alpha's fingers curled around the seam and he tugged it back a little bit to expose more of his mate's milky-white skin.   
“Your AMAZING legs ..” 

He nuzzled into Sam's neck, kissed the sensitive skin there tenderly. “You're soft all over, you know that?” His lips twitched. His voice dropped an octave lower as he spoke. “And sweet.”

Dean slid with his hand under Sam's dress. Just a few inches, feeling delicately soft skin.   
Sam's hand caught his mate's before he could go any further. “Wait … Bobby … the others ...”  
“Are in town.”, Dean murmured and continued to kiss and nip at his omega's neck. “Won't be back for an hour … at least.”

Sam made a soft sound. “It's … someone could see us ...”

Dean drew a circle into Sam's skin, right where the omega was holding his hand.   
He shuddered under the unbelievable gentle touch. 

“No one's gonna see us, baby. Promise.” He felt Sam's grip on his hand ease. “Trust me.”  
Dean smelled Sam's scent growing stronger. Sweeter. Thicker. 

Sam's legs spread slightly, giving his mate his consent to continue with his ministrations.   
The alpha moaned at that. “Yeah, that's it. - No one's gonna see us. Hear us.”  
Sam laid his hands on his mate's knees, stopping himself from slipping down the step. His fingers dug into denim-clad knees. 

Dean's hand vanished under his omega's dress, brushing further towards his middle. His skin was soft and warm, and just … it was at least as luring as Sam's scent. The way Sam's body arched into Dean's at the first touch against his heat. 

Sam made a choked off sound, trying to hold back. He'd never get loud, he'd always keep himself under control. Always. 

The alpha tried to break that invisible barrier each time. He tried to lure Sam out, make him loose control. He knew that his mate was enjoying this, but he also wanted him to LET GO. To just let go and not try to control himself and the situation at all. 

It'd be so much sweeter for Dean if Sam would not feel like having to hold back. 

Sam tilted his head to the side, following Dean's motion, so that their lips would meet. Then they kissed. Tender cushions against soft pillows. Pliant tongues dancing. 

Sam's hold on Dean's knees tightened, when the alpha teased along his hard length.   
The omega's legs dropped further apart, giving Dean some more space to do whatever he wanted to. He bucked up against his mate's hand and pushing back into Dean's crotch right after.   
“Just like that.”, Dean praised, as his seasoned fingers slipped beneath the soft fabric of Sam's briefs. “Let go, baby.”

Of course he felt the tension in his mate's body. And at that, not just the one his arousal caused. Also the tension which came from Sam trying to keep himself small, even when he was like a power of nature as he was right now already. 

Sam just didn't know.  
Not yet at least … 

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

A week later, Dean was working at Bobby's garage.   
John, Jim and Ellen had left after finding different towns and researching stuff about demonic appearances.

John'd call every other day, letting them know how it was going.   
It was going slow. 

He left short before nine in the morning and came back at around five or six in the evening to find Sam cooking (or at least trying to, since he obviously had no clue how to handle food if it wasn't out of a tin or box). 

Mostly it tasted acceptable. But on two days out of three, it was close to uneatable – and landed in the garbage under the sink. 

Dean even told him that he didn't have to cook anything. Because that wasn't what Sam was supposed to do. Sam was supposed to do something he liked to do. He was supposed to find something that made him happy. 

Cleaning the house, or cooking weren't fun for his omega. He knew that. He was just busying himself with it. 

Sam was supposed to read or … figure something else out to do with his time. 

So Dean managed to get his hands on a scaffold and canvas and colors, when all of that cleaning and cooking and even baking seemed to get too ridiculous. His mate honestly seemed to try to compensate the fact that Dean was working during weekdays and that he was at home at the cabin without having to do anything specific. 

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

It was one of those Tuesday evenings. 

Dean had just come home from work and Sam's clothes were covered in different shades of blue and red and yellow as he was stirring in the pot on the stove. TO be honest, Dean gulped down a breath and held it as he entered the cabin. 

Today seemed to be one of those days, which'd end with the both of them on the couch with sandwiches instead of a warm meal. 

But Sam was trying. 

And Dean appreciated that. Because he didn't really count on Sam cooking for him. He didn't need that either. He'd be satisfied with sandwiches, or bread as long as he'd be able to enjoy them with his omega. 

After Sam trying desperately to save their dinner, and Dean convincing him to let it go and join him on the couch, they ended up with sandwiches. Peanutbutter-Banana Sandwiches to be exact. 

SO they were sitting on the couch and Dean was eating.   
Sam on the other hand hadn't touched his yet. 

Of course Dean sensed that something was up. He had known the very moment he'd stepped into the house. He was just waiting for Sam to spill. 

But the omega wouldn't.   
He wouldn't say a single word.   
Which made Dean a bit wary. 

Sam wasn't chatty, but he also wasn't a calm one either. He'd laugh at funny scenes, or he'd chuckle at least. That sweet chuckle which'd erupt from the depths of his chest like a soft rumble.   
But there was none of it.   
He seemed so much calmer than usual. Even pensive and a bit distant.   
Dean didn't call the omega on it. Not yet anyway.   
About half past ten, Dean decided that he'd take a shower and head to bed. 

Sam followed him. 

They'd shower together. Like usual. But without the typical touching or something.   
Dean grew even more curious. 

They'd lie down and cuddle like every day. Though Sam still seemed awfully quiet and pensive. He was chewing his lower lip a lot.   
Dean still wouldn't call him on it. 

Both men lay awake for an hour or so, before Sam'd break the silence.   
“You know … about … the … about Orpheus.”, the omega's voice was hoarse from not being used. “I know its ridiculous. But … You think he's still alive? Somewhere out there?”

Sam stared through the darkness at the far wall.   
Dean didn't move, nor look down at his mate. He could figure out by his own how Sam was looking like. That hopeful expression in his eyes and face. The way his lips were parted slightly.   
Dean hadn't have an answer to his mate's question. 

“I'd know if he's dead, right? I'd know … I think I'd know ...” Sam sounded .- somehow .- heartbroken.   
“I'm sure you'd know.”, the alpha mumbled. An heavy sigh fell from his lips. His hand found Sam's head and his hair. He knew how it must look like. Like he had a fetish or something. But he LOVED Sam's mop of hair. He loved to card his fingers through it. He loved to feel it slide in between his fingers. 

And obviously, Sam like it too. He always seemed to relax into Dean stroking him.   
“He's … I think you'd know, baby.”

Sam nodded into his mate's chest and let his eyes flutter closed. It was like the only thing he needed was to hear someone else saying that he was right. That there was a possibility that his “kid” was still out there and alive. 

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

It was Friday night. 

Dean had made extra hours at the garage.   
He still felt a bit uneasy about leaving Sam on his own. Specially after those weird couple of days during which Sam seemed mentally absent.   
What had been even weirder was, that Sam had went into town with Bobby on Thursday. He may hadn't even mentioned it to Dean, if it hadn't been for Robert Singer giving it away without intention. 

It wasn't like Dean didn't want his mate to get out of the cabin. It was more because he wondered what could Sam possibly make leave the salvage. What could possibly be that important to Sam?   
The ex hunter had no clue what to think about all of this. 

There were thousands of thoughts going thru his mind. From Sam needing distance. Or Sam having enough of playing the good wife.   
Or that he have had enough of Dean? 

 

… to be continued

**Author's Note:**

> follow me: facebook.com/bruisedbloodybroken
> 
> THANK YOU for putting up with me and my crappy formating. 
> 
> sincerliest BBB


End file.
